


Some Things Stay the Same

by peggy_lane



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Rating: NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-20
Updated: 2011-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggy_lane/pseuds/peggy_lane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just feels like more bad luck when Jared's car breaks down in the middle of a thunderstorm. But when the Good Samaritan who brings him in from the rain turns out to be Jensen, his best friend from childhood, things start to look up. For Jensen, seeing Jared again after so many years could be the best chance he's had yet to get everything he's ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Stay the Same

The Pontiac's been due for a breakdown since sometime before MySpace went out of style, so it shouldn't come as a surprise when it dies. Jared ignores the ALT light when it comes on because in this weather, at this time of night, he doesn't see much choice. Soon after, the dashboard lights flicker out and the hum of the engine fades away and before he knows it, he's coasting.

The car's a loaner from his brother Jeff, who warned Jared as he handed the keys over less than a week ago that it's more suited to the junkyard than the roadway. "You oughta get that alternator checked, at least," he'd said. Pretty specific.

But Jared hadn't listened. Or maybe he did but he disregarded the advice, too desperate for a ride to apply common sense. He's been driving around the city for two days looking for a place to live and he's saving for a down payment. Car parts don't figure into the budget. Jared might have a bad habit of ignoring warning signs until it's too late to do anything but deal with the fallout. So he didn't heed Jeff's advice. As usual. He'll no doubt catch hell for that later.

For now, Jared thinks, anybody who has a problem with his irresponsible alternator-less existence should feel free to kiss his ass. The sky's hurling down rain so fast and heavy the car shakes with it. The power steering’s shot but Jared manages to muscle the sedan into a curbside parking space. Streets are dark, lights out pretty much everywhere as far as he can tell, and he doesn't see any other cars nearby. It's unusual to find the restaurants and bars of the south Austin neighborhood closed this early, only a little after eleven, but it makes sense given the weather. So it's deserted, and a rainstorm of biblical proportions has come, and Jared's stuck in it. Figures.

He tries Triple-A, but the call's dropped. He shakes his head and laughs. It's either that or cry and Jared Padalecki isn't a crier.

The only available course of action he can figure is to stay put and try to get some rest until the storm clears. He'd probably play the crossword on his phone to pass time but he doesn't want to run out the battery. He doesn't even have a book to read, and no light to read it by if he did. Jared hates being bored more than anything. He reclines his seat as far as it'll go and lays back, shuts his eyes, and tries not to think too much.

When someone taps on the window no more than a minute later, Jared jumps so high the top of his head brushes the roof's sagging upholstery. The figure outside taps again, louder this time, and Jared holds up his hand to indicate he heard then presses that hand against his chest for a moment as if that will slow his heartbeat any. Adrenaline's a hell of a thing. After taking a second to gather his wits, he rubs his palm over the fogged up window and peers out. Looks like a man out there, wearing some sort of raincoat with a hood that shields his face. He's motioning for Jared to roll down the window. Ridiculous of course, since the windows are electric. Jared opens the door instead.

Cold, hard rain floods in sideways, washes over Jared and soaks the upholstery. "It died," he says.

"What?"

A loud clap of thunder sounds in the distance and Jared speaks louder. "It's dead," he repeats.

"Shouldn't be out driving in this anyway," the man yells back. "Come with me."

The rain batters Jared's skin and clouds his vision. It's all he can do to follow when the man leads him to a nondescript place that says Tavern on the door in big block letters. It's just one business in a long row of converted warehouse storefronts. Jared goes because it's better than sitting in the car, and he'd be willing to lay odds the guy's not a serial killer. Statistically, it's barely even a possibility. Jared considers it anyway. Yeah, the guy's more likely a Good Samaritan than a serial killer. This is good decision making at its finest.

 _"You wouldn't know a good decision these days if it bit you in the ass."_

That's Genevieve's voice in his head. She has a point. He ignores it and follows the man through the door, takes a minute to clear his eyes and shake rain from his hair, pushing it back as he shivers against the chill. The place has big booth seating and Jared can just make out a couple of pool tables in an alcove along the back wall. Jared's Good Samaritan shrugs out of his raincoat and drops it to one of the stools as he makes his way to the other side of the long L-shaped bar.

The power's out but the man's got a battery operated lantern, the kind people take camping, and it's pretty bright. There's a laptop open on the bar, too, that casts out its own electric glow. When the man nears it and reaches down, saying, "I've got some merch back here, t-shirts. I'll get you one," Jared gets his first good look, and. Goddamn.

"Jensen?" He says. The name sounds off somehow coming from his lips, garbled and rough after so many years.

Jensen looks up, seems to see Jared for the first time, really see him, and a smile breaks over his face, big and open. And…it's Jensen. God, it's…

"Jensen fucking Ackles," Jared says, surer and louder.

"Jared?" Jensen laughs the name and abandons what he's doing to make his way over. "What the hell are you doing back here?"

He doesn't sound disappointed. Happy. He sounds happy. His eyes roam over Jared like he can't believe what he's seeing.

Jared grins big and opens his arms for a hug. "I'm home," he says.

Jensen doesn't hesitate, goes right in for it and pulls Jared in tight. Jared's wet still, but the cold is forgotten. "God, you're huge," Jensen says when he pulls away. His eyes are dancing, as expressive as Jared remembers. As beautiful.

"Ate my Wheaties." It's barely a joke but Jensen laughs.

"I guess so." Jensen crosses an arm across his chest and looks down as he rubs his nape with his free hand in an old, familiar gesture. He points to the bar and walks back to it. "Better get you that shirt."

Jared feels like he should shake himself to restore higher brain function. All the gears have come to a halt, locked on one particular point they can't move from - Jensen. He'd planned to look him up once he got settled. Seeing him now is the happiest surprise Jared's had since he moved back. The happiest surprise he's had in a while.

"How long's it been?" He asks. That's good, civilized. He's fighting the urge to scoop Jensen up and hug him again, _I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and call him George_ style. He hadn't realized he missed the guy so much.

Jensen's crouched behind the bar and his voice is muffled. "Must be close to ten years, right?"

"Yeah, that sounds right." Jared steps in closer. "My parents moved up to Round Rock back in, uh, '02. I guess the last time I saw you was when I was helping them move, but I don’t think we talked."

A black t-shirt is hurled in his direction. "Here, you can wear this," Jensen says as he hustles to the back room. "I've got some clean bar towels you can use to dry off."

Jared's already unbuttoning his shirt, anxious to peel the wet fabric from his skin. "That's great, thanks."

"And I've let you off easy so far," Jensen calls back to him. "But I will be giving you a world of shit for wearing that god-awful Hawaiian shirt."

"Shut up. It's cool." Jared hangs it on the nearest chair. He's still chilled from the rain and he rubs his hands over his bare arms to work some heat back into them as he toes off wet flip-flops. He looks down at his feet and digs his toes into the polished hardwood floor.

"But not _cool_." Jensen's voice seems to stutter out over the last word when he returns carrying some small hand-towels, rags really. Jared looks up to find him staring.

"Wheaties, huh?" Jensen's voice is teasing, but there's something heated there, too. Jared feels his temperature rise with it.

"I'm a little OCD about the gym, I guess."

Jensen clears his throat. "No complaints here." He pushes the towels at Jared and turns away. "Nothing worse than getting caught staring. Sorry."

"No complaints here," Jared echoes, anxious as always to smooth over every awkward situation. "I know how that is. Guess I spent a good part of my teen years staring at you."

Jensen turns back to Jared at that but his gaze doesn't sink below eye level this time. And maybe Jared's reading too much into it, but that seems like a choice and not an easy one. He figures he's probably projecting. Jensen's gorgeous. So fucking perfect in the dull, yellow light with tear-shaped raindrop shadows scattering over his skin.

And it's Jensen. Juvenile delinquent. Badass. Movie buddy. One of the saddest kids Jared knew underneath all that. Looking good, doing well, after so many years. He was Jared's best friend back then, though neither of them would have admitted it. Jensen had a reputation to uphold after all. And good kids like Jared didn't hang out with troubled young men like Jensen. Freshmen and seniors weren't friends. It was a distinction that seemed reasonable at the time.

Jared scrubs the rain from his skin with the threadbare rags. "I can't believe it's you." The words come out a little breathless, a little overwrought, if not downright cliché. Of course it's Jensen. He's from the neighborhood. Jared's in the neighborhood. It's hardly a soap opera set-up.

"I bet I'm more surprised than you are."

Jared concedes the point with a nod. He drops the rags on the nearest table and pulls the t-shirt over his head before finally taking a moment to get his bearings and look around. The tavern's bigger than he first thought; on closer inspection, it seems more like a full service restaurant. Its history as an old brick and mortar warehouse is displayed through high, exposed ceilings and industrial-size windows. The dark wood of the bar and the oversized booth tables is well-worn but polished, and it gleams in the dim light.

It's a good place; it suits Jensen. Or at least Jared thinks so. After nearly a decade, he's probably lost the right to claim he knows what suits Jensen anymore.

Sometime during his wool-gathering, Jensen's stepped away and back toward the bar. He swings the laptop around to tap on the keyboard.

"Sorry," Jared says. "I mean, don't let me get in your way if you've got work."

"It's okay. I'm just going to shut this down. Looks like you'll be stuck here for a while."

"So it was probably just porn, then," Jared teases.

"Porn?"

"Dude, I'm not judging. We all do it."

"Not me." Jensen closes the laptop and leans back against the bar. "Not on Tuesdays."

"No porn on Tuesdays." Jared draws his eyebrows together like he’s considering it, intellectually. "Also the name of my new band."

"So you're going with a 'name of my new band' joke." Jensen shakes his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Some things never change."

"God, I hope not."

Jared's not sure what that means, but Jensen sounds like he means it. So Jared grins, and things are quiet for a minute but their gazes don't break, and it doesn't feel uncomfortable.

Jensen shakes loose of it first. "It looks like you're stuck with me for a while."

Jared resists the urge to tell him that, yeah, he said that already, figuring he's in no position to judge. "At least 'til the power comes back," he says instead.

"It's pretty bad out there. Could take all night," Jensen says. "Why don't you take a load off and I'll get us some drinks. We can catch up."

"I'd like that." It sounds like a wonderful ending to an otherwise shitty day. "What about you? Don't you need to get home?"

"Not in this," Jensen tells him. "I was planning to stay until the weather clears, anyway."

"Awesome."

"Beer all right?"

"Yeah, whatever's handy." Jared slides into a booth and runs his hand along the tabletop. It's a sturdy chunk of wood, big and old. "Nice place," he calls out.

"Thanks. I like it." Jensen returns carrying the lantern in one hand and two longnecks in the other. He leaves the light nearby and sets the beers on the table. "They're still cold," he says as he slides into the seat across from Jared. Jared swipes his fingers over the smooth surface of the bottle to absorb condensation that's beaded on the glass before he brings it to his mouth for a long, satisfying swallow. He feels his shoulders relax as the stress of the stupid day and the stupid car and his stupid life starts to unwind.

"Thanks," he says.

Jensen leans in to rest his elbows on the table and smiles. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"You could say that." Jared stretches an arm over the back of his seat. "This doctor, anyway."

"Jared Padalecki, MD." Jensen shakes his head like he still can't believe it. But that's horseshit and Jared knows it. _You can do whatever you want, Jared. You don't wanna be a loser like me_. The memory's so sharp and clear, Jared almost mentions it, but he stops himself. If Jensen's anything like he used to be, he won't appreciate the reminder.

"It's a living," Jared manages. "People make more of it than they should. I mean, I'm in family practice so it's mostly a lot of strep throats and sprained ankles."

"Still impressive, man."

"Thanks."

Jared's mind is not on the medical profession though, far from it. He can't stop staring at Jensen, taking in details like he's memorizing them for a test. Casual in a long-sleeve tee with the bar logo on it and soft, worn jeans, Jensen's both different and the same as ever. There's a dark tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve and Jared wants to push the cuff back, put his hands on it and inspect it, feel Jensen's blood pulse under his fingertips.

It comes back to him in such a rush, that old pull and the new of it. Jensen, older, somehow less pretty, but hotter. Or maybe it just seems that way. Memories are hard to quantify.

"So-" Jared starts, right as Jensen says, "Look, I-."

They share a laugh, and Jensen says, "You first."

"Oh, I was just going to say." Jared clears his throat. What was he going to say? "No porn on Tuesdays, huh?"

Jensen nods. "Yeah, I have to file the weekly report on Wednesdays back to corporate. Tuesday nights, I spend making up shit to send them."

"This place has a corporate office?"

"I know, right?" Jensen's tone is all 'what are you gonna do?'. "Management group out of Houston. For now, anyway. Rumor has it they're going to sell soon. As long as I meet the profit margins, they let me think I run the place."

Jared picks up a coaster with the name of the tavern on it and rolls it across the table. "The Graveyard?"

"That's us," Jensen says. "You'll have to come to the Halloween bash next month. It's our biggest night of the year."

"I might just take you up on that." Jared smiles. "It's a nice place. I like it."

"Thanks. It's not mine but I've put a lot of work into it." Jensen takes a long draw off his ale. "I guess the neighborhood's changed a lot since the last time you were here."

"Yeah, you know I've seen a lot of it in the last couple of days." Jared looks out the window. Still dark. Still stormy. Still can't see shit. But he peers into the darkness like he can make something out. This block is usually pretty active with foot traffic as people wander from coffee shop to bar to boutique. "Looking for a place to live."

"You're really moving back?"

"Yep." Jared bites the inside of his cheek and looks especially close at the bottle label. "It was kind of a sudden decision so things are," he waves his hand, "I don't know, unsettled, I guess."

"Had to get out of Atlanta fast, huh?"

Jared’s laugh is a little too sharp, so he ends it quick with a nod and a tip of the bottle to his mouth.

"Emory, right?"

"Emory was a while ago."

"Yeah, I guess so. Time flies."

"I stayed in the city after my residency ended," Jared tells him. "I had a pretty nice spot in a family practice there."

"Why'd you decide to move back to Austin?"

There's something warm in Jensen's voice. He sounds ready to accept anything or nothing. It's hard to believe it's been so long, Jared thinks. Slipping back into this is easy.

Still, he's reluctant to go into the whole story, so he says, "I guess I realized the only thing going for me there was my job." That's not a fair statement, though. "That's not completely true. I have some good friends out there. I just." Jared stops himself. What can he say? What does he want to say?

"Dude, you don't have to go into it."

Jared tries to shrug off his embarrassment. "It's no problem," he says. "No big deal. Just maybe not right now."

Jensen slides out of the booth, grabbing the empty bottles on his way back to the bar. "You sound like you could use another."

"You're a good man, Jensen Ackles. I always said so."

"Yeah, well. You were the only one." There's more than a little truth to that, but Jared doesn't mention it. Jensen returns with two more bottles. "Two's my limit on a work night, I'm afraid."

"It's not a work night for me, so keep 'em comin', barkeep."

"Yes, sir." They smile at each other over the glass, so natural, so pure and unchecked, Jared feels almost goofy with it. "So, the neighborhood?" Jensen asks, about half a second before the mutual grin-fest goes on too long.

"Yeah, the neighborhood." Jared sets down the bottle and leans forward. "You're right. It's changed."

"I guess I don’t think about it much since I've been around," Jensen says. "But it hits me sometimes. I mean, we get tourists now."

"I don't know." Jared shakes his head and licks his lips, dragging every last taste of beer he can onto his tongue. "I still think I can see the old place underneath the new coat of paint. Once you get into the neighborhoods, every third house still pretty much looks like it could be condemned any minute."

"And every tenth one is a crack-house," Jensen agrees.

"There's that, yeah."

"But then you have everything else. Remodeled bungalows and craftsman-style houses with perfect lawns."

"Yeah, it's a nice mix, actually," Jared says. "When did things start to turn around?

Jensen leans back and looks up like he’s considering it. "Probably around '03, '04. That was the latest wave, anyway."

"Saw some of that in Atlanta around then, too."

"We've taken a hit over the last few years, like everybody else," Jensen tells him. "I worried for a while that we'd backslide more than we have. But things are smoothing out."

"If housing costs are anything to go by, I'd say so. At least in this neighborhood."

"I know a good real estate agent if you need one."

"I've decided to rent for now." Jared rolls his neck. Even talking about his living prospects brings back the stress of his situation. "It'll be faster that way. Probably one of the apartments back off Pecan."

"I know those apartments. You can probably get a good deal."

"I think so, yeah," Jared tells him. "They'll let me sign a six month lease."

"And they're close."

"I got a job in the neighborhood, actually," Jared tells him. "At the clinic."

"That is close." Jensen smiles. "You'll be a real local again."

"I'll be in biking distance of pretty much everything I need."

"Work, home-"

"The Graveyard for Halloween."

"Don't drink and bicycle," Jensen tells him with a tip of his beer bottle. "Your friendly neighborhood bartender won't allow it."

"I wouldn’t dare."

It hits Jared that he'll be able to see Jensen every day if he wants. The grin that threatens to break over that realization is so big and stupid he has to bite his bottom lip to suppress it.

"You could ride around the neighborhood on your old skateboard," Jensen says. "Not that I'd recommend it with your track record."

"Hey, I was still growing," Jared protests. "My legs just got in the way of my balance sometimes."

"Your legs, your arms, your existence."

"That must be why you were so determined to keep me off the streets."

"I was?"

Jared kicks at Jensen's foot under the table before remembering that his feet are bare and curling his toes in. "Come on, you remember. You'd pick me up in that car of yours."

"My mom's."

"Well, yeah." Jared drops his gaze, swamped by a feeling that’s a lot like nostalgia, but feels somehow more concrete than that. "God, I feel like we went to every movie that came out like five times. How many did we see?"

"A lot." Jensen narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "A lot."

Jared slaps his hand down on the table. "There's a bomb on the bus!"

Jensen laughs. "Oh my god, Keanu."

Jared tries to wink but he feels it go wrong somewhere in there and Jensen laughs at him, murmurs, "Lightweight."

"To think," Jared says. "We were both lying when we said it was about Sandra Bullock."

"Baby's first beard."

They lean back in their seats and regard each other fondly as their laughter dies away. So that was the start, claiming to be crazy for Sandra Bullock when they were both more inclined toward Keanu. But there was an end to it, too.

"Both of us. I mean, figuring out we both-" Jared runs a hand over his face. "That was something else, right?"

"You mean when you came back from college and found out I was gay by catching me getting a blow job in the back room of Mary's?" Jensen asks. "Yeah, that was something else."

"And you were all, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jared reminds him. "Until you were like 'Wait, what the fuck are _you_ doing here, Jared?'"

Jensen raises his voice and mimics Jared's long-ago response with a laugh. "Well, I'm trying to do the same thing you are."

"I was so pissed." Jared shakes his head at the memory. "Why was I so pissed?"

"I don't know man, something about secrets."

"I think I may have been jealous," Jared admits. "But I wrapped it up in righteous indignation pretty good."

Jensen pulls the empty beer bottles close, lines them up, and stares at them instead of Jared.

"Nah, I understood," he says. "It was awkward as hell." He looks up with a lop-sided grin Jared can't quite define. "I remember being shocked you were old enough to be in a bar."

"I wasn't," Jared tells him. "I swiped Jeff's ID."

"The things we do for a backroom blowjob."

"Dude. I've done dumber things than that since."

"I don't want to know." Jensen swoops up the bottles as he slides out of the booth. "You want another?"

"Not unless you'll join me," Jared says, reversing his earlier decision.

"Just sticking with the two, I'm afraid."

"In that case, I'll cut myself off, too." Jared follows Jensen to the bar. He stretches his arms and rolls his neck to work out some of the kinks from a long day spent in the car before returning his gaze to Jensen. This looking at Jensen thing feels like it could cure his ills. It's the kind of thinking that usually gets him in trouble. But this is Jensen. Jensen's not trouble, not for Jared. He never was.

Jensen drops the empties in the bin behind the bar and leans over it while Jared leans in from the other side to face him. "So when are you signing the lease?" Jensen asks.

"Tomorrow." It's the first time Jared realizes he's made up his mind. It feels pretty good. "They allow big dogs – for a steep price, of course – so that pretty much seals the deal."

"How many dogs?"

"Two. Mutts. They're crashing at my brother's with me right now."

"How's Jeff?"

Jared shrugs. "Good. Everybody's good."

He decides against asking Jensen about his family. It doesn't feel like the time for touchy subjects, so he settles for, "I'm glad to see you doing so well." He realizes as the words leave his mouth that they might sound condescending and cringes against his own awkwardness.

Jensen doesn't seem to mind. "I'm glad I'm doing well, too," he says. "I was headed down a bad path back when you knew me."

"I didn't think so." Jared fiddles with some cocktail straws set out on the bar. "You just didn't have the support you deserved."

There's a tension in the silence that falls between them. Jared's going to say something, anything, probably random and off-point, when Jensen clears his throat and steps back from the bar to lean against the counter behind him. He stares at his feet when he speaks, voice pitched low.

"I had you."

"I was just a stupid kid." Jared still feels like one most of the time.

Jensen looks up and something in his eyes makes Jared shiver even as it burns through the shadows and straight into him. "You were a lot more than that."

"I'm glad you thought so."

It feels insufficient, like there's a moment here he's not rising to meet, but Jared's not sure that makes sense and the thought is fleeting. What his mind lands on isn’t deep. Damn, Jensen's hot, he thinks. Really fucking, scorching hot. And maybe they could, you know-

 _"You need to be alone for a while, honey. Just take care of yourself."_

Fucking Genevieve. In his fucking head. Again. And she's right, as usual. Jared looks out the window – yep, still raining – then around the room like he's mapping it. His lets his gaze land on the pool tables and heads toward them.

"You up for a game?" He asks.

When he reaches the end of the bar, he's surprised to find Jensen’s come around from the other side to meet him.

"Jared," he says when he's standing right by him.

"I'm a little rusty," Jared admits.

"Jared."

"Huh?"

Jensen's really close. His hand comes up to curl around Jared's elbow and he pulls in even closer.

"Just-" Jensen shakes his head, looks away and back to Jared. Jared feels a rush of _want_ go through him so fast and hard it almost steals his breath.

And just like that, Jensen's pushing himself up to the balls of his feet to land a kiss on the side of Jared's mouth. It's quick, a little off-target maybe, or maybe that's deliberate. And Jared doesn’t want to leave him hanging, that would just be rude, so he turns into it and he kisses him back.

He opens his eyes to find Jensen watching him. Jensen smiles and it crinkles the skin around his eyes, throwing Jared a little more off balance than he already is. He brings his fingers up to press against Jensen's neck, so soft it's barely touch, and deepens their kiss.

Jensen presses in close and cradles Jared's hips to hold him in place. He traces his tongue over Jared's lips and Jared wishes he'd thought of it first, smiles at the thought, allowing Jensen to lick into his mouth.

Their tongues slide and roll together. Jensen runs his along Jared's teeth, nips at his bottom lip and Jared mimics the move. He's feeling strangely careful about the whole thing. Jensen seems the same, tentative even, like maybe he thinks Jared's going to bolt.

And maybe he should. When Jared pulls back, Jensen doesn't chase the kiss. He licks his lips, curls them in to suck between his teeth; he's watching Jared, but there's something in his expression now that's as shadowed as the room around them and Jared doesn’t want that but he doesn't know what to do. He steps back and looks away.

Then Jensen backs up, too. "Sorry," he says, strained and low.

"Oh god." Jared smiles. "Don't be sorry. It's just." He stops to finally think about what he's going to say before he says it, something he doesn't do nearly enough. He looks at Jensen, reaches out a hand to nudge his chin. "I'm horrible at this sort of thing."

"You were doing pretty good."

"We were doing pretty good, yeah. I know this might be nothing, I don't want to sound like crazy-commitment guy or anything, but-"

"It's not nothing."

"Right. Well, good." And it is. Jared's glad it isn't nothing, but that's not the point. What was the point? Oh, yeah. "I recently got out of a relationship," he says. "It's not a good time for me to be starting something."

"It's not a start."

"Oh."

"No, I mean. I guess that came out wrong," Jensen says. "Sorry. It's just – this isn't the start for us, you know?"

"More like, we join this movie already in progress?" Jared guesses.

"Something like that." Jensen nods. "It was a long intermission, but we were friends. And friends can have fun, right?"

"Define fun."

"I don't know. I guess what I'm saying is-" Jensen steps back to spin in a slow three-sixty while he rubs his hand over the back of his neck. Something about his agitation relaxes Jared. At least he's not in it alone. When Jensen completes his turn and looks back at Jared, there's something set in his expression.

"We're here," Jensen says. "Your car broke down and the power's out and here we are. I'm pretty sure I've seen this porn. You grew up to be hotter than sin and I would very much like to fuck you on that pool table over there."

"Oh."

As near as Jared can tell, what's just happened is this: Jensen said a lot all at once and now Jared's speechless, an event so rare it must be some kind of sign. But Jensen's quiet now and even in the semi-dark, Jared can see the flush crawling up his neck and he realizes he's keeping a man waiting who just propositioned him fairly bluntly. Jared’s mama raised him better than that.

"Okay," he says.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Let's, you know, porn it up."

The whole exchange is so ridiculous he thinks Jensen might laugh it off as a joke, but he doesn't. He nods and steps up to Jared again. Pulls himself up and kisses Jared. Grips Jared's arms like he's holding him still and presses in close.

Their hard-ons through their jeans are no joke. The whimper that gargles in Jared's throat is no joke. That's his noise, the strain of his cock against Jensen's. His tongue in Jensen's mouth. And he's the lucky guy who's about to get fucked on a pool table, apparently. He's looking forward to that part.

Genevieve's voice tries to intrude, he can feel it bubble up in his subconscious, and he doesn't know what it's going to say, but it'll be right, it's always right. He forces it down before it can speak. That damned voice can take an indefinite leave of absence as far as Jared’s concerned. He wraps his arms around Jensen to pull him closer and Jensen runs his hands up Jared's arms to curl them around his shoulders; he slides his hands up and combs his fingers through Jared's hair, scratches gently at his scalp. Jared can't get close enough.

"Too many clothes," he breathes whisper-soft into Jensen's mouth.

Jensen's moving a little awkwardly in his arms. Jared's not sure why until his brain grasps that Jensen just toed off his shoes. Jared had no idea bare toes rubbing up against each other could be such a turn-on.

Everything about Jensen seems to light a spark. When he was sixteen, Jensen was beautiful and he damn well knew it. He carried it with him like a shield. The flash-memory of Jensen then falls like a sheet of clear plastic that drapes over the man who’s in his arms now and Jared feels a clench and tug somewhere deep in his chest. When Jared was little more than a kid, he’d look up at Jensen, sixteen and strong and stupidly beautiful, and feel small and clumsy and ridiculous. Maybe that’s the sort of thing that holds true forever.

Jensen pulls back, trailing his open mouth over Jared's jaw, his neck, around to tug his earlobe between pouty pink lips, and whispers in his ear, "I've got some condoms and lube behind the bar."

That pulls a raw, ragged laugh from Jared. "I'm impressed."

"The Graveyard is a full-service establishment." Jensen pulls away to go get what they'll need while Jared focuses on steady breathing. He reaches over to pick up the lantern and walks back to the pool tables.

The table Jared selects looks like it was abandoned mid-game. He sets the lantern down nearby and runs his hand along the edge, pressing down to test its strength. It's sturdy enough, perfect height. The green felt covering is scratchy but it'll be worth the burn, he thinks. His palms are down flat on the surface when he feels Jensen come up behind.

Jensen wraps his arms around Jared's waist and presses a kiss to Jared’s shoulder through the black fabric of the Graveyard t-shirt. He drops a small bottle of lube and a condom onto the table and nuzzles Jared's neck, licks his way around Jared's nape, trailing a wet line onto soft skin.

"I love your neck," he says. He slides a hand up Jared’s stomach, bunching the fabric of the shirt as he goes, all the way up to Jared's chest. Jared leans forward, into the curl of Jensen's fingers as they make his way up to his throat.

When Jared bends, Jensen follows, his mouth never ceasing its play on Jared’s nape in soft, pressed kisses, like maybe he really does love it. Jared's good with that. But his hard-on presses against the pool table and he moans out a little protest.

"Impatient." Jensen teases out the word with a nip to Jared's skin right along the soft bend of neck and shoulder. He licks and sucks it in. That's going to leave a mark Jared won't want to cover.

Jensen tugs at the hem of Jared's t-shirt then brings it up, and Jared with it, to pull it off before pushing him back down. He presses a kiss between Jared's shoulder blades before he backs away. Not for long, though. Jared hears the rustle of fabric then Jensen's on him again, his chest bare against Jared's back. He moans into Jared's skin, threads his fingers through his hair and pulls his head back, pushes up and pulls Jared’s head around, kisses him on the ear, on his cheek, finally brings him around enough to press their lips together, open and sloppy.

Jared throws one arm back to grip Jensen's thigh and pull him closer. Jensen's effectively taken control of the situation and the touch is all he can manage from this angle. Jared pushes himself back into it; he wants to, wants to give it up to Jensen so much it almost feels important.

When Jensen reaches around to undo Jared's fly and slides his hand, warm and big, past Jared's waistband and underneath the fabric of his briefs to cup his hard cock, it's all Jared can do not to come on the spot. "Holy fuck." His voice is a grind. "God, Jensen."

"Mmm. You like that?"

"What do you think?"

Jared moves his hand from Jensen's thigh, around to cup his ass, tries to splay his fingers out far enough to brush them between his legs, give just a little of what he's getting.

"Turn around for me," Jensen says. "Want to lay you out over the table, watch you while I work you open."

There's no reason to say no, so Jared says yes. As he straightens and starts to turn around, Jensen pushes his jeans down past his hips and Jared takes the hint, slipping out of them and his underwear in an ungainly squirm as he turns to find Jensen doing the same.

They both slip out of the last of their clothes and get a nice, long look at each other. Jensen's dick is high and hard, ready like Jared is.

"You don’t have to take it slow, you know," Jared says when he pulls Jensen to him. He dips his knees, just a little, so their cocks strain against each other. Only the barest amount of pre-come keeps it from being rough and dry.

"Maybe next time."

Jensen's words are muffled against Jared's jaw; he rubs their cheeks together and Jared thinks he probably should have shaved but the thought doesn't hold because Jensen's rocking him back. Jared’s never been the graceful type, but he finds it pretty easy to set his ass on the edge of the pool table and bend back over it. He catches himself on his elbows while Jensen practically crawls up him to press his lips to Jared's chest.

The eight ball rolls toward him, heading to the curve of his lower back, but Jensen palms it and slides it away. Jared watches as it makes its way to the side pocket.

"You didn't call your play," he murmurs. Jensen laughs into his skin. His lips are traveling south to Jared's stomach now. Jared’s abs tense and relax as Jensen drags his tongue over them.

Jared falls back onto the table slowly, pushing one arm behind him to roll balls out of the way as he goes. He thinks he might never be able to play pool again without thinking of Jensen's mouth on him, circling his belly button, sucking in the skin around it, one hand pressed to Jared's hip, one reaching for his cock. Jensen runs his thumb along the slit, picking up the moisture there and lightly pushing. Jared's flat on his back, looking up; it's so dark it seems like limitless space between them and the high ceiling.

"You're so beautiful," Jensen says. "Just like I thought." He presses his lips to Jared's cock.

The green felt of the table is scratchy on Jared's skin. It's not bad, but he feels it, feels the wood of the ledge underneath the bend of his knees, but mostly he feels Jensen's mouth on him, playing him, his tongue running down Jared’s shaft to his balls.

Jared throws a hand to his side and grabs for a railing. He finds it and clenches it while he slides his other hand down his body to Jensen's where it's settled on Jared's hip. Jared looks down to see the tattoo that winds its way down Jensen's arm to curl around his wrist.

Then Jensen's mouth takes him all, just swallows him down and suctions his skin, moisture of Jensen's talented tongue fluttering along the shaft while Jensen grabs Jared's leg and loops it over his shoulder, opening Jared up for him. Jared bends his other leg up to splay it wide along the railing and Jensen pulls off to suck on his two fingers, gets them good and wet, then works the rim of Jared's hole while he swallows him down again.

The shudder that works its way through Jared's body means this isn't going to last much longer. Jensen's mouth on his cock, his fingers playing Jared's hole. When Jensen slides one finger in slow and gentle then pushes in another, there's a burn and stretch that feels so good Jared almost bucks up off the table from it. Mouth on his cock, fingers in his ass, his sweat-slick back pressed down on scratchy felt. It's almost too much.

There's a part of him that feels helpless. He can't reach as much of Jensen as he wants to and it's driving him crazy. He feels his body writhing over the table like it belongs to somebody else, some desperate creature. Must look like such a slut, feels like it. Feels like he was made for this, having his body worked over so thoroughly, naked and sweaty on a pool table in the middle of the night. By Jensen. For Jensen.

Jared looks over to find the lube and the condom next to him and scoops them up quick to toss down, nearer to the end of the table where Jensen's bent over him. Jensen hears the noise and pulls up to look at Jared through moist lashes, his eyes dark and wide.

"I guess you're ready." The words rumble low along Jared's skin.

"Fuck yes." Jared moans and arches his head back on the table. "Come on, Jensen. Need it."

"I've got you. Relax."

Jared hears the sound of lube being opened, the rub of it on fingers, the tear of the condom packet and the slick motion of Jensen's hands on his own cock as he works it on and slicks himself. He thinks about watching. Wants to see Jensen ready himself, but he wants this, too – just the sound and smell and the feel of it. He closes his eyes when Jensen drags him closer, burn of the table at his back.

Jensen works his now-slick fingers along the rim of Jared's hole and pushes in again – hits the spot just right. Jared reaches down to fist his cock, tightens his grip and pulls hard to keep from coming while he bucks up. Jensen pulls his fingers away then he's back and Jared feels his cock pushing in, slow and slick and hot and hard.

Jensen's thick. It feels like his cock pushes against every possible nerve as he angles himself to slide in, pulling a choked cry from Jared's lips. Jared can’t bear to not see it anymore. He angles his head to look down where their bodies are joined. Jensen's watching Jared as he starts to stroke into him, bottoming out and pulling back, rolling his hips, and giving it to him again and again, faster and more forceful with each stroke.

Nothing's ever felt so good. Jared's sure he'd remember if it had. Nothing's ever looked so good as Jensen, sweat dripping in a line down his neck, sliding over his collar bone and down his chest to this clenching stomach. His half-hooded gaze is wild and intense. They're both breathing hard when Jensen brings his hand down to join Jared's on his cock. His rough, warm hand works Jared hard, jacking him off until Jared can't hold back anymore.

"Come on, come," Jensen growls. "Come for me."

The tense, clenching burn in Jared's body is so strong it feels like a short circuit. He shakes with it when he lets loose and shoots come over their hands and onto his stomach, up to his chest. Jensen leans in and licks some into his mouth, shaking now in tight, fast motions until he comes too, deep in Jared's ass. It sends convulsions through Jared. There’s something violent and harsh in it that he wants to protect Jensen from. It makes him want to hold Jensen close and tell him it's okay. Jensen's eyes bore into Jared's; each time Jared thinks he's finished, it seems another tremor rolls through his body and he's coming again until he finally stills and collapses down over Jared in an awkward sprawl.

It takes a minute for Jared to find his voice. "Get up here."

"I don't think I can move."

Jared reaches down to scratch his fingers through Jensen's hair. He realizes he's practically petting the guy, but he craves the touch. The sound of the rain and the hum of the nearby lantern are the only sounds other than heavy breathing. Jared shuts his eyes again, listens. He inhales the scent of them, come and sweat and latex, until Jensen musters the energy to pull out. He takes care with Jared, coming off him slow and easy. There's the rustle of the condom being disposed then Jensen's climbing on the pool table.

"Scoot over," he says.

Jared barely budges, and he's more than satisfied that the result is Jensen curled up close. When Jensen leans over to land a soft kiss, Jared smiles into it, a big post-orgasm grin that must take up his whole face.

Jensen slings one arm over Jared's waist and props his chin on his chest. "This pool table isn't so bad."

"What?" Jared protests. "Not so bad? I'm going to have rug burn for days."

"You love it," Jensen says. "You were rubbing yourself on it like a big cat."

"I was sex-crazed. I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Come on over if you want." Jensen presses a kiss to Jared's warm, damp skin. "I'll rub aloe on it."

"Why does that sound so filthy when you say it?"

"Because I mean it filthy."

Jared laughs and pulls Jensen closer. "You know, I'm usually not this easy."

Jensen's look is skeptical. "Back room blowjob, Mary's."

"Well, yeah. I mean, you know." Jared makes a kind of wavy motion toward his sore but happy ass.

"What?"

Jensen's tone is teasing and Jared decides to play along, laughs out, "I don't normally give up this sweet ass of mine until I've at least gotten a movie and a steak dinner out of it."

"Well, when I'm rubbing aloe on your back, I'll order take-out and we can stream something on Netflix."

"It's a date."

"It is?"

"Well-"

And Genevieve's voice doesn't even need to pipe up this time. He knows where he's at, what he's been through. Knows he's no good for anybody right now. "I can't-" Jared stalls out over the words. "It's bad timing for anything more than friends."

Jensen smoothes Jared's hair from his forehead. "I know." He drops back down and snuggles in close. "It'd be kind of weird, right? We were never anything else, and after all this time?"

Of course that's true. It's not as though Jared's breaking Jensen's heart. The thought is ridiculous. But they were friends. Still are, apparently. Friends who just had mind-blowing sex.

"It's nice to be back," Jared says.

"I'm glad you're here, too."

There's a stutter of sound, like the room's taking a breath, the inhale of a beast coming back to life, and the lights flicker on. They laugh at the noise and Jared closes his eyes, not quite ready to bear witness to the mess that they've made.

But he really is happy to be back. And it was a hell of a way to wait out the storm.

 

  
_~~~_   


 

The past is kind of a blur. Jensen figures it's that way for most people. He remembers he was about nine when things changed at home. It was the year his aunt died and his mom wasn't the same after that.

He knows he was fifteen when he lost his virginity. What Jensen remembers most about that blessed event is that he sat through _Reality Bites_ three times before he earned enough points with Linda Phillips to slide into home base. She was a sophomore. He was still a freshman and the first of his friends to get laid. That definitely gave him bragging rights, and he didn't restrain himself from the bragging. She didn't really talk to him after that.

For the life of him, Jensen can't remember the first time he met Jared. Must have been somewhere around the block, maybe when Jared was wiping out on that skateboard of his. Or maybe they met through Jared's older brother, but Jensen never got along with the student government types so that doesn’t seem likely.

Jensen was very concerned back then with his image. Nothing was more important than playing it cool. Hanging out with the middle-school kid from down the street definitely didn't earn him any bragging rights. Just the opposite. Jared was clumsy and kind of nerdy; he talked too much and ran funny. He outgrew his jeans with such frequency he probably heard "expectin' a flood, boy?" more times than even he could count.

By the time they spent that first summer driving down to Storey's Theater to see _Speed_ (three times, but Jensen didn't get into anybody's pants off that one), and probably every other movie they showed, Jensen would have been fifteen and newly de-virginized, which would have put Jared at about twelve.

It was innocent of course. Jared was just a kid and Jensen far from admitting, even to himself, that he was more of a Keanu guy than a Sandra guy. But somehow their friendship felt more illicit than anything else Jensen had going, including the pot smoking and petty larceny that pretty much defined the rest of his teenage experience.

One hot and humid August day, he tapped out a beat on the steering wheel of his mom's Camry and cut his eyes to Jared. "We saw _Forrest Gump_ already."

"Just once."

"That's one time too many."

"But _Natural Born Killers_ looks stupid."

Jared was full of shit and Jensen not at all opposed to calling him on it. "Afraid you'll have nightmares, baby-boy?" He taunted. "Don't worry. Mommy'll make it all better with warm milk and homemade cookies."

"Fuck you." Jared slumped back in the passenger seat and glared. "My mom's cookies are awesome."

"So it'll totally be worth it, then."

"Whatever. I'll watch it."

"I ain't skeered." Jensen sing-songed a fairly on-point imitation of Jared's young voice.

"Did I mention fuck you?"

"Did I mention that you sound like a foulmouthed chipmunk when you say 'fuck you'?"

"Yeah, but you didn't mention that you say 'foulmouthed' like an old woman."

"Maybe I am an old woman."

"What does that even mean?"

Jared had a ridiculous seizure of a laugh that seemed too big for his body to hold. Maybe one day he'd grow into it but until that day everyone in his vicinity just had to deal with the fact that it might knock him over and damage anyone in its path.

It was contagious, too. "I have no idea." Jensen laughed as he lead-footed the gas and swerved the car just to freak Jared out.

"God, don't get a ticket," Jared screeched. "You're not even supposed to be driving."

"Chill, butt-munch. I've got a permit."

"I can't believe your parents let you drive by yourself."

"I've got a passenger, it's totally cool."

"Dude, I'm twelve."

"So?"

"I don't count." Jared's voice filled the car, loud and high-pitched, and Jensen smirked.

"Why are you riding in a car with me if it's so dangerous?"

"I don't know." Jared huffed out a breath, all petulant put-upon preteen attitude. "My parents'll have a litter if they find out."

"And my parents don't give a fuck. So there you go."

He shouldn't have brought his parents up. It always soured the mood, pissed him off and made Jared go quiet. But they got to the theater and Kristen let them in the side door as usual and it was soon forgotten. It was good to have friends in high places and Jensen gave Kristen an ass-pat for her troubles as they headed in to take their seats. Flirting with Kristen was fun. She was singularly immune to his charms, which was more of a relief than anything.

Jared thanked her like the well-raised boy he was. She ruffled his hair like she always did and warned them not to get caught because it was her job on the line.

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to be fired from serving popcorn with extra butter to fat, greasy assholes," Jensen told her.

"Then who would let you two psychos in for free?"

"The lady has a point."

Jensen raised his hands to concede defeat. "I'm outnumbered."

Kristen was the only person who knew that Jensen hung out with the kid from down the street. She thought it was sweet, like he was some Big Brother of America volunteer or some shit. She was cool, though. Jensen trusted her not to tell.

 

If _Natural Born Killers_ gave Jared nightmares, he never mentioned it. And if it bothered Jensen that his parents didn't give a fuck, he never mentioned that. His mom and dad had their own issues and Jensen had figured out years before that the best he could do was carve out his own space alongside them, live his life, and wait it out.

His brother had left home the year before and his kid sister, Mac, seemed to be doing okay. Dad tried his best with her and Jensen figured staying scarce and not diverting attention was all he could do to help. Staying scarce was easy. Mom barely looked up from the shopping channel or the OJ trial or whatever _thing_ was occupying her at the moment to pay any of them much mind at all.

It must have been the summer after that, probably about three in the morning, when Jensen made it back from Steve's and headed to Jared's back yard instead of his own, slid down against the wall and passed out in a heap. He assumed he was in the vicinity of Jared's window. It was pretty stupid but he was pretty wasted. And lucky the next morning when Jared was the one who found him.

He woke up spluttering against the splash of water being poured down on him and Jared snapping fingers in his face.

"Jensen. Wake up. Jensen."

"Shh," Jensen protested. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"What are you doing here?"

Jensen slumped forward and grabbed Jared by his t-shirt. "Steve's party last night was off the chain."

"Dude, did you get high?"

"Yessssss." Jensen tried to smile but he felt it die on his face. The high had worn off and he mostly felt sick. "I think I'm gonna puke."

"Come on." Jared pulled him up and half-dragged him into the house. "My parents left for work already. You can sleep it off in here."

"You're awesome."

"I know."

"Seriously." Jensen slung his arm around Jared's bony shoulders. "You're like my best friend. Even though you're just a kid."

"I'm thirteen."

"Kid."

"You didn't drive in that condition did you?"

"Yes, Grandma, but I drove very, very slowly."

"Fuck, Jensen. You have to promise me you won't do that anymore, okay?"

"What? No way. I ain't promisin' shit."

Jared pulled Jensen down the hall to his room. "Don't make me give you the whole driving under the influence speech. I saw a video at school." His face was pinched and his voice was thin and tight. Jensen didn't have the will to deal with it.

"Fine."

"Fine, what?"

Jensen plopped down on Jared's bed and crossed his finger over his chest. "Cross my heart. No more drugging and driving."

"Or drinking and driving"

"Ditto that."

Jared may have been the only person who cared enough to give him the speech, but once Jensen made the promise he kept it. Over the years, he crashed in some strange places, and there were a few dodgy rides with strangers, but he did keep his word to Jared.

That was the year they saw _Babe_ , too. Jensen remembers because Jared cried like a little girl. Jensen wasn't about to cry over a pig and made a point of taking Jared out to Smoky Bones for Bar-B-Q after. He didn't have much cash and Jared refused to ditch the check, so they gorged themselves on soup and salad, which sort of defeated the purpose, but it wasn't the first or last time Jensen fell victim to his own piss-poor planning.

"Today," Jared declared. "The pigs are safe from us."

"That'll do, pig."

 

Jared was summertime. He was movies and stale popcorn, and fighting over music in the car - Dr. Dre or Ace of Bass. He was skateboards and ice-cream and sun-pink skin.

None of it felt weird, but Jensen knew it should. It was weird enough that he kept it a secret. His parents didn't care. He didn't know if Chris and Steve and those guys wondered how he spent his days when he wasn't working whatever part-time job he could scrounge up. But they didn't know about his house, either, and the piles and piles of things that filled it up and kept the rest of the world away, his mother's own personal cocoon. A distinct lack of parental concern wasn't uncommon among his group of friends.

By the time the next summer rolled around, Jared's parents knew he was hanging out with Jensen most days. They knew Jensen took him to the movies and came over to play Nintendo while they were at work. Jensen even met them once or twice, very carefully said, "Hello, Mrs. Padalecki, how was your day?"

"You're a regular Eddie Haskell," Jared told him one day after his mom passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen.

Jensen punched him in the arm, laughed when he squirmed away. "Your parents are weird."

"No, my parents are normal." Jared leaned over the space between them to look him in the eye. "You come from the family of weirdos. I'm fucking Beaver Cleaver."

"Ew." Jensen shuddered. "That guy's old. Why would you want to fuck him?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, fuck you."

"Faggot."

Jared pulled a face and said, overloud, "Am not, take it back."

"Make me, homo."

There was a second there where Jensen felt bad, like he went too far, and worse, like he was exposing something. The way his thoughts at night drifted, not to any of the girls he knew from school or any chick in a movie, but to men. How he knew, deep down, what got him off, but he didn't have the language to admit it, or the guts, or the experience. It was usually easy to ignore, easy enough that he planned to train himself to ignore it altogether someday.

None of that came up when Jared practically flew at him in a gangly tackle and wrestled him onto his back to tickle him into submission.

"I give, I give," Jensen said, because the only option seemed to fight Jared off for real, which could well end in girly-tears.

"I am victorious!" Jared yelled, arms in the air. Jensen laughed.

"God, you're loud."

"Jealous."

"Mmhmm."

They settled back into their video game for a while before Jared cleared his throat to say, "You know I'm starting high school next week."

"Congratulations. McKinley High is lucky to have you."

"We'll be in school together."

Jensen paused the game. "We don't know each other, got it?"

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

"Big nerd like you doesn't need to be hanging out in the vocational wing with me, anyway."

"I would." Jared seemed to take a sudden interest in the carpet.

Jensen exhaled. "You're a social retard, though."

"As opposed to you, an actual retard."

"Now you're talking." Jensen was relieved to get his way without too much drama. High school was enough of a pain in the ass without the added annoyance of Jared trailing after him.

 

  
_~~~_   


 

Dawn's breaking by the time they pull up to Jeff's. It's a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a nice yard. As grateful as he is to his brother and sister-in-law for letting him crash there, Jared can't wait to move into his own small place in his old questionable neighborhood to start making his own messes again. He steps out of Jensen's truck and leans over. "Thanks for everything."

"My pleasure." Jensen’s suggestive drawl doesn't leave his real meaning in any doubt.

"Well now," Jared tells him. "The pleasure was mutual."

"Oh, I know."

Jensen's grin is wicked and his eyes are bright; Jared sort of wants to open the door and slide back into the truck, head back to the bar, and see if the pool table can endure another round. "Never could get one over on you," he says.

"Smarter than I look."

Jared's going to ask when they'll see each other again. He wonders if that afternoon will be too soon, but he'll be in the neighborhood – picking up the car from the shop, signing the lease on his apartment – which seems like a good enough excuse. Still, there's a distinct possibility that if he goes into stalker mode it will freak Jensen out. That's what Chad used to call it when Jared came on too strong, too fast. Stalker mode. The thought of that old, bad habit pulls him back more than any doubts he might have about Jensen in particular.

"I'll see you around, I guess," he says.

"You know where to find me."

"Sure do."

When he starts to back away, Jensen calls out."Jared."

"Yeah?"

"I do want to see you again." Jensen smiles. "The sooner the better."

"Oh. Good." And it is good. It's good not to feel like a stalker, good that he's not the only one who wants sooner rather than later. But just because something feels good doesn't mean it's good for him. Jared's learned that lesson the hard way.

Jensen curls his fingers around the steering wheel. "I just wanted to make sure you know how I feel." The words are said low as he's putting the truck in drive and pulling away. Jared wonders if he heard him right.

 _I just wanted to make sure you know how I feel_ – it seems like an odd thing to say, but Jared's tired and it was probably nothing. He shakes it off and heads inside so Jeff can get his I-told-you-sos out of the way and Jared can take a long, cold shower.

 

He doesn't let twenty-four hours go by before he sees Jensen again. Stalker. But it's not like it's out of his way. His sister-in-law, Karen, drops him off at the auto shop down in the neighborhood, but the car's not ready yet and Jared could do with a beer. And fuck it. He wants to see Jensen.

He passes several old brick buildings on his walk to The Graveyard, some vacant, some not, all decorated with graffiti on their side and back walls. The pavement's still wet from the storm and the moisture rises as steam off the hot sidewalk. The utility poles are papered with flyers for local bands and missing pets, for the once-a-week farmer's market down the street. Most of the few city blocks that make up the commercial part of the neighborhood look a little different than Jared remembers, a little smaller, but those things are familiar. It smells pretty much the same, both good and bad – trash from the dumpsters in the alleyways and parking lots alongside the far more appetizing smells from the restaurants opening for lunch.

He doesn't stop in anywhere, goes straight to Jensen's bar instead and asks for him; Jensen's there and he seems happy to see Jared. There's no reason in the world he shouldn't have dropped by, Jared thinks, as they slide into the same booth they slid into the night before.

The gorgeous redhead tending bar watches them pretty closely and Jensen might seem a little squirmy about it. Jared certainly feels like a specimen in a jar. But that may be because he can't shake the feeling he's done something wrong. Last night wasn't a random hook-up, but it wasn't anything more than that either. It can't be. Situations like this are why Jared got out of the backroom blowjob business years ago.

"Did you go by the apartments?" Jensen asks.

"Not yet," Jared tells him. "I'm going to pick up the car first. But I called up there and they say they can get me in by Friday."

Jensen nods and maybe fidgets a little. He throws the bartender a look Jared can't read. Jared wonders if she knows what they did. He doesn't think Jensen would tell. Probably not, anyway. But maybe. It's a bragging-rights kind of story. And maybe she's Jensen's BFF, the one he tells all his secrets to, his Genevieve. Maybe she's the voice in his head saying, 'Don’t let another man break your heart; you deserve so much better than that'.

Generally, when Jared gets to the making up conversations for other people portion of the program in his head, he loses control of his vocal chords and says something stupid to release the tension. Today is no exception.

"I can't," he says. And stops. He's not sure where that sentence was going. Is it possible that he made it through medical school and got his license in not one, but two states? Even he finds it hard to believe sometimes.

Jensen looks at him like he's waiting so Jared continues. "Um, I mean." He leans forward, spies the tattoo on Jensen's wrist again. The design is easy to make out now that there's plenty of light and Jared's not distracted by earth-shattering sex. He reaches across the table and curls his fingers around Jensen's wrist like he wanted to before. Jensen's warm and his pulse strong, blood and skin and ink under Jared's fingers.

"What is it?" Jared asks. "The tattoo?"

It's a winding design, some sort of vine that travels around Jensen's wrist and partway up his forearm. It's dark and masculine, simple but obviously drawn with care.

"It's ivy," Jensen tells him as he turns his arm so Jared can see the top of the design where the vine twists around a bird that's just sketched in, almost abstract, poised for flight. "And that's a phoenix."

"Ivy and phoenix?"

"Mmm." Jensen settles his hand over Jared's. "Perseverance and rebirth. That's what Danneel said, anyway." He nods toward the bartender. "She's an artist at Thirteen Tattoos down the street, just moonlights here when she needs the cash. She designed it."

Jared turns his hand to lace their fingers together, lets his thumb travel up to brush over the design at Jensen's wrist. "It's perfect."

Jensen's pulse beats faster now, and Jared likes that he's causing that.

"Was there something else?" Jensen asks.

"No. Yes." Jared shrugs. "I don't think it matters."

"I guess that's up to you."

"I broke up with my boyfriend less than a month ago." There, he thinks. That's out.

Jensen tenses a little, the change so slight Jared wouldn't notice if he wasn't holding his hand.

"Well I knew you had a recent break-up."

"But you didn’t know it was that recent."

"How long were you together?" Jensen asks.

"Almost two years."

The thing is, Jared almost believes he's over it. It sent him reeling so hard he moved to another state without a job or a plan. But it worked, or it feels like it did. He hasn't been thinking about Tom that much. He hasn't been calling Genevieve every day to talk about what a fucker Tom was or what a loser he is with a string of bad endings to bad relationships behind him. He's been living his life without all that baggage. For a whole week or so at least.

"I guess it ended messy?"

"Yeah. Well, no, actually. It feels like it should've ended messier than it did," Jared tells him. "We were living together and he got a job in Seattle. He's a surgeon. Anyway, I knew he was looking for a position out there but when he got the job, I thought – this is it, I have to decide if I'm ready to go across country for him. I like Seattle, but I don't know if it's my climate, you know?"

"It's a big change."

"Yeah."

"It's understandable that you wouldn't want to go, Jared. You shouldn't feel too bad about it."

"That's the thing," Jared admits. "Somewhere along the way, I realized he hadn't asked me."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Jared nods. "Ouch."

"You didn't talk about it?"

"It was only two weeks or so before he left that we had the talk. He said he just assumed this would be the end of the line for us and I was," Jared gestures with his free hand. "I couldn't believe it."

"Pretty harsh."

"I don't know. Maybe from his point of view, this was something I'd seen coming for months and he just figured I realized we were breaking up."

"He still should have talked to you."

"I should have asked. I should have known to ask. I was an idiot."

Jensen laughs. "Maybe a little."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil."

"But he still sounds like an ass."

Jared exhales an exaggerated sigh. "He was really cute, though."

"Guys as hot as you don't generally draw in uglies."

"That's the nicest thing you ever said to me."

Jensen arches a brow.

"Well since the whole 'wanna fuck you on that pool table' thing."

"I guess I'm glad you told me." Jensen pulls his hand away and slumps back in the booth. “But I don’t want you to think you have to."

"No, I know. I talk too much."

"Yes, but I don’t mind that." Jensen's smile is soft. “I mean, what happened last night. It was great."

"Really great." Jared looks to the pool table and realizes Jensen's doing the same before they both pull their gazes away.

"But you were up front about how it was just a thing," Jensen reminds him. "We established that already."

"I know. I'm just. I don't do that. I feel a little slutty to be honest."

"Nothing wrong with taking what you want when you want it as long as nobody gets hurt."

"Now that sounds like the Jensen I used to know."

"I haven't changed so much. Just adjusted my approach a little."

"And what else have you been up to?"

Jensen's matter-of-fact. "I stayed around, I got my act together. My parents, they-"

"I wasn't going to ask," Jared says. "I mean I didn't know if I should."

"They're better." Jensen looks down at the table and bites his lip. "There was a fire about eight years ago, no surprise the way they were living. They lost the house."

"I guess I should say I'm sorry." But Jared remembers how miserable Jensen was there, how hard he had to fight showing it, and he's not truly sorry at all.

"Don't. I'm not. It was the best thing that could have happened." Jensen taps his closed fist on the table. "It forced them to start over. They're in assisted living now and mom's getting help. She's okay."

"I guess you're paying for that?"

"Mac helps."

Jared smiles. Mac's just a year younger than Jared and Jensen was always pretty protective of her in a sort of distant big brother way. "What's she up to?" He asks.

"She's married. She's got some corporate job." Jensen beams. "Living in Dallas."

"And your brother?"

"Haven't heard from him in a while. He never really looked back."

"Some people never do."

"I'm glad you did."

Those simple words, said plain and low, travel like a hum breathed onto Jared's skin. By the time he looked back, he was ready to come back. There wasn't much thinking about it, just time to start over.

But he has thought of Jensen over the years, probably more than he realized. It'd be hard not to, given the number of shared experiences that pulled on his memory again and again. All the times he thought: I remember the first time I saw this movie, _Braveheart_ or _Independence Day_ or any one of dozens, remember sitting in the dark theater, sticky floors and sticky fingers, pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, hands dipping into the popcorn, fighting over it and making a mess.

They share a smile and Jared figures Jensen's remembering the same.

"So," Jensen says. "Tell me about the clinic."

"Not much to tell." Jared relaxes back against the booth. "I could get in there quick, start on Monday. Regular hours, with some on-call work."

"They do good work in the community."

"Yeah, nobody's gonna get rich working there, but it's the kind of work I like doing. What I got into it for."

"You always did have a lot of do-gooder in you."

Jared can't seem to stop himself saying, "Not last night, I didn't."

Jensen just shakes his head and groans, and there's nothing Jared can say to that. It's an appropriate response. But maybe Jared shouldn't be joking about it, not yet when things are still fairly awkward.

"So, seen any good movies lately?" He asks to change the subject. It's not smooth and Jensen laughs big but goes along.

And just like that, they're on to movies – they still share the same tastes it seems – and music, which gives them more to disagree on. Jensen was always a purist while Jared's an unabashed Top Forty kind of guy.

By the time he's finishing up beer number two, along with a BLT and fries, Jared can't help but notice that Danneel isn't the only one watching. The entire staff seems in on the act. Jensen notices it too, or notices that Jared does, and finally says, "You want to get out of here? We can take a walk. I'll reintroduce you to the neighborhood."

"I'd like that."

It's early afternoon and the sun beats down hard. Jared feels himself go damp with sweat the instant they step outside. They get some ice-coffee from Joe's and Jensen introduces Jared to the guy working there. He seems to know everybody. There's not a lot of foot traffic this time of day, but the shop owners and employees all call out their hellos to Jensen.

"You're so respectable," Jared says. He's suppressing the urge to reach over and clasp Jensen's hand in his.

"That's me." Jensen gestures toward the used book store. "Let's go in here, you'll like these guys."

Delectus Used Books has a nice selection and a back room with a sign on the archway that reads, "Naughty Bits."

A blonde man walks around the front counter to greet them. "Jensen, what have you brought me?" He asks in a British accent. "Not that he isn't delicious, mind you, but it's not even my birthday."

"Hands off, Sebastian. He's with me."

"So possessive, darling." Sebastian reaches a hand to curl around Jared's bicep. "It is real," he murmurs before turning back to Jensen. "Not that I blame you."

"Jared's an old friend," Jensen tells him. "He's just moving back to the neighborhood."

"Hi," Jared says before he's distracted by another man with a devilish grin and dancing blue eyes who walks in from the back room.

"Well, well," the man says.

Jensen gestures between them. "Jared, this is Misha. Misha, this is my friend, Jared.”

"I'll say." Misha winks and Jared feels himself smiling.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Jensen says.

"Oh, come on. Get over yourself, Ackles." Misha loops an arm around Sebastian's waist, pulling him close, and looks them both over with a critical eye. "You've both been gorgeous your whole lives. Surely you've learned to deal with the fallout by now."

Jared can't help but laugh. Sebastian and Misha both take obvious delight in being inappropriate, a quality Jared's always admired. Jensen was always the play-it-cool-type though, so it's a little surprising that they're friends.

"Jensen's been gorgeous his whole life," Jared corrects.

"And you?" Seb asks.

"I ran the Dungeons and Dragons club at our high school."

"That's right." If Jensen's laugh is any indication, he maybe finds a little too much humor in that memory.

"Hey, we had fun."

"And you were the star of the debate team, too," Jensen says.

"I'm surprised you remember since you were never at school."

Sebastian and Misha watch them like spectators at a tennis match. "I see there's a lot of history here," Sebastian says.

Jensen bumps shoulders with Jared. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Definitely."

When they leave the shop, Jared is the new owner of a coffee table book full of not-so-tasteful erotic photography and he's promised to host a get-together at his apartment once he's settled. He figures he'll put the book out when Misha and Seb come over then hide it in the back of the closet for the rest of, well, his life.

He and Jensen are halfway down the block before Jared realizes they just agreed to a double date.

 _Moving too fast_ , says the voice in his head. It's not even Genevieve's now, but his own. Too fast. The thought sends a little reactionary panic through him and Jared finds himself cutting their time short. He looks down at his watch and gives Jensen a half smile. "Car's probably ready. I should go."

"You want me to drive you up there?"

"It's just a few blocks. I'll walk."

Jensen's watching him, and Jared can tell it clicks. He knows that maybe the car is ready, but he knows Jared's running, too. There's a look in his eyes that may be disappointment, quickly suppressed.

"All right, then." Jensen squeezes Jared's shoulder as he takes a step back and starts walking toward The Graveyard. "You've got my number. Call me sometime, once you get settled."

"Yeah, or I'll drop by." Jared shoves his hands in his pockets and heads the other way.

"Pool table's always ready."

"I don't know man." Jared shakes his head. "Might be structural damage."

"Only one way to find out." Jensen's calling out to him now, far enough down the street that the conversation's effectively over. Jared waves his goodbye and keeps his mouth shut instead of admitting how much the idea of testing for structural damage with Jensen appeals.

 

Jared moves into his new place on Friday and spends the weekend helping the dogs adjust. To be fair, Sadie and Harley take to change easier than Jared does. They've been through two other apartments, Jared's old house in Atlanta, and now Jeff's. Not to mention three long-term boyfriends. They take well to the small apartment too, to their morning jog and long walks around the neighborhood.

It takes Jared about a week to get up to speed at the clinic. Paperwork's different everywhere Jared's ever been and the clinic is practically stuck in the Dark Ages compared to the more upscale practice he left behind in Atlanta. But he likes it. Not the paperwork; he's never met a doctor who did. Maybe he'll get burnt out but he likes what he's doing. Doctor Gamble runs the place with a firm hand, get 'em in and get 'em out, and Jared appreciates the momentum. What he loves more is the sense that he's doing good, mostly vaccinations and walk-ins with sore throats, but good work for people who need it.

Given the upheaval in his life, Jared thinks about Jensen more than he should. They're playing it safe still, a few light kisses in the backroom of the bar, fingers tracing over fingers, nothing more than that. But it feels a little dangerous. He sits at the bar when Jensen's behind it, or grabs a booth seat when Jensen can join him there. When the weather's nice, he brings the dogs and sits outside on the patio. It doesn’t take long for it to become routine.

He feels his face go hot every time he looks over at the pool table.

"You want to play?" Jensen likes to ask when he sees Jared's gaze drift that way.

The sound of the balls rolling across felt and banging into the railing or whooshing into a pocket makes his cock twitch. Jensen always looks pretty pleased with himself when he sees Jared's reaction.

"I don't think I'll ever play pool again."

Jensen smiles; he laughs with his whole body. He's got a life, a business to run, more friends he introduces Jared to one by one. Even Danneel, after some initial skepticism, seems to like Jared. There's a particular look she throws his way that seems to mean, 'I've got my eye on you, boy', though he's not sure why.

Maybe it's because when Jared comes by, Jensen seems pretty willing to drop everything else. They call it getting reacquainted. Jared's not sure what Danneel calls it.

And it's good. It's great. But after the intensity of that first night, it feels like idling in neutral, which is close enough to what Jared needs that he can roll with it. But what he should be striving for is a distance he doesn't really want.

 

Two weeks pass before Jared makes good on his promise to have Misha and Seb over, along with Jensen. Housewarming is a pretty generous description of the occasion given the apartment's size and the wine he receives in lieu of any useful gifts from Bed, Bath, & Beyond or Pottery Barn.

It's odd having Jensen in his small home. Jared's used to seeing him against the backdrop of the bar or around the shops in the neighborhood – the coffee shop or Delectus where they spend a lot of their time together. Jared waves them all into the apartment. "Well, this is the grand tour."

One bedroom, one big bathroom, a tiny kitchen with a bar that divides it from the living room, which is furnished with Jared's over-stuffed couch and his mounted flat screen TV. It's a typical bachelor pad, maybe better decorated than that of a typical straight counterpart but certainly not by much.

"Nice place." Jensen crouches at the door to greet Sadie and Harley.

"They're expecting bacon," Jared tells him. "You're the bacon dispenser at that nice outdoor food bowl as far as they're concerned."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." Jensen gives them a final scratch behind the ears and walks to the counter to grab a beer.

"You don't need to work hard to win them over."

"They're probably easier than Jared over here." Misha's sitting on the couch and flipping through the obscene coffee table book Jared remembered to set out only minutes before his guests arrived.

"I don't know." Jared smirks at Jensen. "I think I'm pretty easy."

Jensen's smile is tight-lipped. "Only on special occasions."

"Oh, do tell," Sebastian says as he sidles up to the bar.

"Never in a million years," Jensen tells him as Jared says, "Maybe one day, if you're good."

Jensen grins. "Same difference."

"I can be very good," Sebastian assures him. "Can't I, darling?"

"No. You're always very bad." Seb rolls his eyes at Misha's deadpan response and joins his partner on the couch.

Misha and Seb are great company. They never met an entendre they didn't want to double. Some might say they're a little overly affectionate with each other, exhibitionists on top of everything else. But Jared has to admit that there's something about what they have that he craves; easy rhythm, a clarity about who they are to each other and how they present it to everyone else.

When the dogs realize they're not getting free bacon out of the deal, they abandon the company to go sleep on Jared's bed. Jared does manage to keep the beer and wine flowing and by the time Misha and Seb declare themselves done for the night, he's pleasantly buzzed. Jensen's been matching him drink for drink, shooting those looks at Jared all night like he sometimes does. The ones Jared likes to think are only for him, warm and fond and a little sly.

When Jared ushers Misha and Seb out the door and shuts it behind them, he turns to find Jensen close, pushing him against the door and smiling, pressing in and kissing, soft and easy until Jared opens to it, smiles and licks at Jensen's tongue while it works its way into his mouth.

Jared raises his hand to Jensen's cheek, curls his fingers around to cradle his head and pulls him in closer while Jensen steadies his hands at Jared's waist and deepens the kiss. Jared's breathing hard; he can feel his chest rise and fall with it, invading more of Jensen's space with every inhale.

"You do so much to me," he breathes into Jensen's mouth.

Jensen slides his fingers under the hem of Jared's t-shirt and skims them over his ribs. Jared tingles hot-cold at the touch as Jensen traces his tongue over Jared's lips. He opens them wider to suck Jensen's tongue into his mouth, lets it go to nip at his full bottom lip, then they're kissing again as Jared pushes away from the door and back-walks Jensen to the couch.

Their movements are clumsy; Jensen pulls away to dip down and suck on the skin of Jared's throat, flicker out his tongue and slide a wet line. Jared pulls him in tight and sucks on Jensen's earlobe, breathes against it and feels the shudder that goes through Jensen's body.

They dip and fall onto the couch, Jensen on his back and Jared pressing him into cushions with all his weight. Jensen can take it, all of Jared's bulk, falling over him like a heavy blanket, making him hot like Jared, stretching him out and pushing him down. Jensen wraps his leg around Jared's thighs to pull him in closer.

Jared's shirt is bunched up to his chest and Jensen's arms are looped around him while Jared runs his fingers over Jensen's body – his side, his arms, back up to his throat; they tremble against his cheeks. Jensen bucks up while his hands travel Jared's back, up to his shoulders before he brings them down, fingers curved into flesh as they drag against sweat-slick skin, down his back then lower to slip under the waistband of Jared's jeans.

"Too tight," he says, muffled and amused. Jared reaches between them to undo his fly, does the same for Jensen. But he doesn't pull their jeans off, just unclasps them to give more room so Jensen's hand can travel down further, along Jared's crack before resting on his ass, squeezing lightly as Jared raises himself up enough to run his hand down Jensen's body to the hem of his t-shirt.

"Off," he says. Jensen laughs and helps him remove the shirt. They make quick work of Jared's too, then they're on each other again, bare flesh pressed close, and it doesn't seem like much, not for two men who've been with plenty of other men, not for two men who have been together. But it feels like a lot. It feels like being young again and making out with a boy for the first time.

And Jared can barely remember who that was. Some guy he met in an under-21 club. Brock maybe. Yeah, Brock. He made out with Brock in the backseat; they were both shaky and sweaty from dancing and Jared didn't give a damn about Brock. He never talked to Brock again. He was just happy to check it off the list at the time: Made out with a boy. But for all that, the first time was an adrenaline rush that you just don't feel every day. And Jared feels like that now, feels that rush again. Like it's new because it is new. It's Jensen.

He laughs and dips his head to suck on the flesh of Jensen's neck and runs his fingers along Jensen's chest, down to the soft skin of his belly, and Jensen laughs with him. There's no telling why. Maybe because it's fun. Maybe because it's them.

"That tickles," Jensen says.

Or maybe just because it tickles. And Jared laughs at that, too. He grinds down against Jensen and Jensen dips a finger to play along Jared's perineum and the outer rim of his hole; Jared pushes back against it before rolling down again.

He sets one foot on the floor and starts to work his way down Jensen's body, pushing Jensen up in a slide along the cushions to gain more traction. Jensen weaves their fingers together then raises their clasped hands up over their heads. Jensen's other hand is still at play on Jared's ass when Jared starts to trace a line down Jensen's chest with his tongue, follows the path with the fingers of his free hand over trembling skin.

Jared flicks his tongue over Jensen's hard nipples, sucks at them, tweaking the sensitive hard pink skin with his fingers before trailing them down over the soft skin of Jensen's side. Jensen brings their clasped hands down between them and looks at Jared, eyes intense and bright. He kisses Jared's knuckles, slicks them up with his tongue. Jared grins wicked and pushes at Jensen's jeans. Jensen tries to help, pushes up his hips so Jared can work them off, past his underwear, and down to his knees before Jared loses the will to stand up and work them all the way down.

He's going to go down on Jensen, take him in and work him so good he comes in Jared's mouth, down his throat, but Jensen has other ideas.

"No," he says. "I want to look at you."

"But-" Jared reaches his hand down to cup Jensen's hard cock through his underwear.

"Please, Jared. Please. Want to look at you."

"Yeah?"

"Always."

Jared huffs. Jensen's so intense sometimes, almost more than Jared can match, but he makes his way up Jensen's body and falls over him again, pushes down his own jeans and his briefs as he moves so that the only thing between their hard cocks is the thin fabric of Jensen's underwear.

"You ever bottom?" Jared asks whisper-soft, afraid the question's too clinical. He doesn't want to ruin the mood.

Jensen smiles at him and brushes back Jared's sweat-damp hair before he pulls him in close, forehead to forehead. "Sometimes. I will. For you. Anything."

"Not tonight, though, right?"

Not that Jared doesn't want to, but he wants this, too - the soft warm edge of simply making out, flesh to flesh, of getting off like this. There's a sense of wonder in it almost, like he wants to be softer than his body will allow. Wants to cushion Jensen and protect him and run his hands over him soft as cotton, no hardness. No bruises or marks, though it's too late for that.

"No, not tonight." Jensen says as he wraps his legs fully around Jared's waist and pulls him in close, rubs their noses together and smiles, flutters their lashes together and runs his hands down Jared's back, smooth and warm against Jared's damp skin.

They kiss slow and soft, their tongues rolling together, small nips of flesh on flesh.

"You have no idea," Jensen says. "I bet you never will."

"What?"

Jensen shakes his head and pushes up to grind against Jared. Jared pulls back but keeps their cocks pressed close together, looks down at Jensen and raises his hand to run his fingers over Jensen's skin, his eyebrows, the soft flutter of eyelashes against the pad of Jared's thumb, down his cheekbones to that beautiful swollen mouth, plump and wet and red from Jared's kisses.

"What?" He asks again.

Jensen pulls Jared in for another deep kiss. "Just how amazing you are," he says against Jared's skin as they both lose control and start moving faster against each other, frantic and rhythmless, letting go of whatever control they've been able to manage. Jared feels his balls pull in tight and the rigid tension of Jensen's body as he arches his neck, muscles and veins popping, and they both come together, soaking Jensen's briefs, their thick come sticky between them. Jared collapses onto Jensen, he looks at him close and can't believe how lucky he is.

Jensen's eyes are big and dark, so intense Jared's almost scared by it.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

Jensen just watches as their heavy breath falls between them and shakes his head.

"Jensen?"

"Yeah," Jensen finally says. "I'm fine. That was just-"

"Intense."

"Exactly."

Jared can't help but feel there's more to it than that. He manages to stand up just long enough to slip out of his jeans and strip Jensen of the rest of his clothes before he drops back down to the couch to pull him in close. They squirm around until they're able to arrange themselves side-by-side, face-to-face. They're both shaky and breathless, and Jensen's watching Jared like being vigilant about it matters. It occurs to Jared that for all his concern over the state of his own heart, maybe it's Jensen's that needs looking after.

 

  
_~~~_   


 

Jensen fell in love once. It happened on his eighteenth birthday and of all his memories, it's the one he grips the tightest.

They were sitting on the rooftop of the movie theater. It was made accessible by a fire escape at the back of the building rigged so the ladder stayed within reach. The view wasn't much but on a clear night, after the lights of the theater and the shopping center across the street were shut off, the moon and the stars seemed near and bright enough to light up the world.

Jared would point out the constellations, give each their proper name, one-by-one, so that Jensen could rename them.

He followed the line of Jared's finger and told him, "That's a little constellation I like to call The Cleveland Steamer."

"I don't know what that is but you're disgusting."

"You need to loosen up, kid." Jensen lit a cigarette and inhaled deep.

"Kid." Jared shook his head. He'd long given up on preaching the danger of cigarettes. "Like you're an old man or something."

"Eighteen now. Way too old to be hanging out with a runt like you."

"I'll be fifteen soon."

"In like four months."

"Whatever. Maybe you are an old man."

Jensen turned his head away to exhale smoke before looking over at his friend. He wasn't sure why he was choosing to spend his eighteenth birthday with a fucking fourteen-year-old who had to sneak out of his parents' house to join him, but there it was. Must have been bad taste. He thought of telling Jared as much but ended up saying instead, "Thanks for the _Pulp Fiction_ poster."

Jared shrugged. "I knew you'd like it. When you move out of your parents' you can hang it up."

"Yeah, when me and Steve get our place in LA. It's gonna look awesome."

"Did your parents get you anything?"

Jensen puffed out a perfect smoke ring and watched it float away before answering. "Yeah. A George Foreman Grill."

It took Jared a beat to realize he was serious. "Oh my god, you got a George Foreman Grill for your eighteenth birthday?"

Jensen couldn't bite back a smirk; he'd been waiting for his moment to tell Jared, the only person who'd ever hear the story, the only one who'd appreciate the absurdity of it.

"It wasn't even supposed to be for me." Jensen widened his eyes. "My mom just ended up ordering like three of them from QVC so they gave me one of the left-overs."

Jared's voice was deeper by then but his laugh still had a boyish ring. He clapped his hand on Jensen's shoulder as they doubled over in laughter. "Oh my god," he choked out. "That's the saddest story I ever heard."

"My dad was so proud he remembered this year." Jensen just managed to spit out the words through his laughter.

"Fuck them," Jared said. "Won't be much longer now, anyway."

"Exactly."

Jensen leaned back to gaze up at the night sky, barely registered the rough surface of the roof that dug into his elbows. He looked over to Jared who was still suffering from occasional giggle-fits. It was contagious and Jensen found himself laughing again with him.

When they finally got control of themselves, Jared was still sitting ramrod straight, looking down at Jensen with bright big eyes and a bright big smile.

And Jensen looked at him and thought: Holy shit, he's gorgeous.

It wasn't just that, of course. The floppy hair and the body that was growing into itself, long and tan and lean. Clear eyes and dimpled grin, always true and completely contagious. Those weren't the reasons Jensen fell in love that night. Or maybe he just had the final, unavoidable realization that he'd already fallen. He never gave it much thought. It was simply that he didn't know and then he looked up at Jared and he did and it changed everything.

Everything about how he felt anyway. There was nothing to be done about it, no move he dared to make on Jared. Jared, all backlit by the stars and watching Jensen the way nobody else did. And Jensen thought the things that people think: he's mine, and I want him, just to kiss him, just to touch.

He felt it all in such a rush, a breathless twist of need and want and memory, the vision of a life, finally, just for himself. Not a nonsense dream he shared with Steve or the wish to be anywhere but where he was, but something real. Jared.

He stretched back along the rooftop and covered his eyes with his forearm.

"You okay?" Jared asked.

Jensen nodded yes, ground his cigarette into the cement next to him and wondered if anybody else in the history of the goddamn world had ever been stupid enough to fall in love with their way too young, way too good, and way too straight best friend.

 

McKinley High didn't see a lot of Jensen his senior year and he didn't end it with a diploma. Truth be told, he spent a good portion of his time drunk or high. The only question most days was whether he was hiding out with his buddies on school grounds or somewhere far away.

By the time he had his rooftop epiphany in the spring, he'd already been suspended twice. A third time would mean expulsion, a potential outcome Jensen didn't find terribly distressing. He wasn't exactly on the college-track so he didn't see how it mattered.

As usual, only Jared cared enough to give him the big speech. "You've got to graduate, Jensen. You're so close now." Jensen would ask "Why?" and "What's the use?" And Jared would reply, "Options." Then Jensen would call him a geek and a mama's boy and tell him to butt out. That's just how it went, same old same old.

In his last couple of months as a McKinley High Senior, after he'd turned eighteen, Jensen found himself more desperate to avoid the place than ever. Not that he and Jared ever hung out there anyway. Jared had always respected the rules. The geek freshman and the stoner senior did not socialize on school grounds.

But it got harder as time went on. He half-believed his feelings for Jared would fade away or at least become bearable, but even being in the same building started to feel like an itch that needed scratching. Jensen had nightmares about blurting it out in the hallway or across the cafeteria: Jared, I love you. I don't care about anything else; I can wait for you to grow up. I'll be whatever you need me to be.

When he started avoiding Jared after school – no more Nintendo at the Padaleckis', no more movies, and definitely no more rooftops – Jared jumped to the obvious conclusion that Jensen was done with the kid from down the street. Being Jared, he didn't walk away without getting a word in first.

"You want to go see something?" He asked one Saturday at the end of May. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of Jensen's house, his skateboard balanced on its end. If the pit-stains on his t-shirt were any indication, he'd been waiting there a while.

"Uh, no." Jensen meant the words to sound harsh and dismissive but he hated to see Jared cringe from them. "I'm playing with the big kids tonight, Jared. Why don't you just, you know…" he made a 'move along' gesture and walked away.

"So that's it?" Jared called after him. "You're just like, too embarrassed to hang out with me ever?"

"Too bored." Jensen unlocked his car door and slid inside, his heart dropped in his stomach like a stone.

"Yeah, because your stoner friends are so interesting." Jared came over to the door and leaned in.

"It was fun while it lasted, okay? I just don't have the time for you anymore."

"I wanted to-" Jared stopped and backed away. "Never mind."

"Wanted to what?"

"Jeff said you're not graduating."

"That's right. Waste of time."

"Are you going to LA?"

"Not yet." Probably never. Steve wasn't up for it and Jensen wasn't in the mood to go it alone. Best to stay close by for Mac's sake anyway.

"Well, then." Jared dropped his skateboard on its wheels to see-saw back and forth on it. "Just, you know, take care I guess."

Jensen laughed like it was funny for Jared to be concerned, like it didn't mean everything. "Always do."

"Okay." Jared dropped his foot to push himself off. "Bye."

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Just. I'm moving out soon. Some friends are renting out a basement apartment. In case you wondered where I went."

Jared's smile was small and tight. "I’m glad you're getting out," he said right before he skated away.

 

When he moved out of his parents' house, Jensen thought the worst of his problems would stay behind with them. No more junk piled up to the ceiling, he'd never live like that; no more glassy-eyed stares, no more of the same old excuses from his father. But while he was grateful to be out he couldn't bring himself to abandon Mac to it. He didn't even want to cut his parents out of his life altogether. For all their flaws, he could vaguely remember better times, when he was loved and cared for as a kid.

So he visited, took Mac out for pizza or to the mall, let her show off her big brother to her girlfriends. Mostly, he partied too much, spent half his days in a blissed-out haze. Skipped out on minimum-wage work and got blowjobs from questionable guys in back-alleys for the price of a kiss or a whispered promise no one intended to keep. He bummed off his friends until they weren't friends anymore and stole their girlfriends to prove he could, bounced checks and started fights.

There was nothing special about the degree of fucked-up Jensen was. At the end of the day, it was pretty standard loserdom as far as he could tell. The only thing he ever did right was to let Jared off the hook. That's what he believed straight up to the day Jared literally bumped into him at Ace Hardware, a day that didn't end with him changing his mind.

Jensen stumbled back when an oversized ball of energy took a sharp turn around the corner and careened into him, bike chain in hand.

"What the fu-?"

"Dude, I'm so sorry," then, "Jensen?"

Jensen turned and looked up, then up some more.

"Jared." Jensen backed away from the shelf and worked at playing cool.

"I haven't seen you in ages."

"Yeah, it's been a while." Three years by then but who was counting?

"I saw you going to visit your parents a couple of times, but I didn't figure I should bother you."

"I understand."

"I mean, I'm not mad or anything." Jared looked like a man in a way he hadn't before but he still bounced on the balls of his feet like a kid and Jensen felt himself give in to a wry grin. "I get why it would be pretty weird for you to hang out with a geeky kid back then. I got the cool end of that deal hanging out with you, you know? There was like no upside for you."

"I guess I was a dick about it when I left," Jensen admitted. "Sorry about that. You weren't that geeky."

"Oh, I was. Still am."

Jensen allowed himself a moment to take Jared in; he wore typical summer shorts and a t-shirt, long tan legs, maybe a little too close to skinny, smile as big as Texas.

"You don't look it."

Jared's skin might have gone a little pink, but he was always prone to that so maybe it wasn't a blush. Jensen couldn't say what was going on in Jared's head so he was surprised when Jared blurted, "Hey, I was thinking about going to see _The Matrix_. What do you think?"

"You're asking me to go to a movie?"

"Better than going alone, right?"

"Now?"

"Sure, there's gotta be a matinee around three, right?"

"You still hog the popcorn?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Fine then, it's a date." Jensen barreled over his use of the word 'date' as quickly as possible. "But you're paying for a large."

"Deal."

"Okay. Let's go."

Maybe he should have said no. Because he drove them out to Storey's Theater in his leased Chevy truck that was overdue for repossession, and they sat in the dark theater. That was the same. But it wasn't comfortable and he never figured out quite what he should say.

There was part of him that thought he should make a move, or flirt at least. Jared was a senior by then, just weeks from graduation, and old enough that it wouldn't be so creepy. Jensen felt his hands go clammy in a way they didn't for anyone else. But then he realized through his haze of indecision and the hangover headache he still carried from the night before that Jared couldn't seem to stop babbling about some girl named Sandy and how Sandy was the one and how he and Sandy were about to celebrate one year together. There was only so much, "Sandy thinks…" and "I wasn't going to try out for basketball, but Sandy said…" a man could take.

The movie was pretty cool or Jensen didn't know how he could have sat through two hours next to Jared – arms and fingers brushing, the smell of dried sweat and aftershave, so close in the cool darkness of the half-full theater – thinking that of course Jared had a girlfriend, and Jared had a fucking scholarship in Atlanta just waiting for him, and Jared's family was proud.

Once upon a time, he'd made Jared feel like some sort of charity case he didn't have time for, but it didn't take an Honor Student to realize Jensen wasn't good enough or smart enough or together enough for such a golden boy, especially one so earnestly hetero.

Years later, Jensen watched _The Matrix_ on DVD and realized just how much of it didn't penetrate the first time around because of the thoughts swirling in his head, the gut-churning regret that he couldn't be what Jared wanted any more than he could change Jared's sexual orientation or the path he himself was on.

Whatever else was true or false, for everything he knew and all the things that made him go stupid, Jensen was reminded with stunning clarity that Jared deserved better than a loser like him.

 

When they met again two years later in the backroom of Mary's, Jensen and Jared screamed at each other more out of shock than anything else. Once that had passed and they sat outside on the curb to talk it out, they laughed over the situation the way they used to laugh over just about everything. Only this time it was because they were both gay when they thought of the other as the straightest guy to ever approach a vagina, and because of their shared history, and the embarrassment they both felt when Jared literally stumbled over Jensen getting sucked off by some stranger against the back wall of the club.

"My parents don't know yet," Jared told him. "About me being gay. I think I'm going to tell them before I head back to Atlanta."

"They're cool, man. They'll probably take some time but they'll be good with it."

"I don't know."

"You can always wait and tell them once you're out of college."

"I'm going to be in school forever." Jared's voice was drunkenly forlorn. "Goddamn medical school. I mean I'm still an undergrad and sometimes I think I won't be able to hack it, you know?"

"That's ridiculous."

"I don't know." Jared sounded skeptical. "I can be kind of flaky or whatever. Sometimes I think you have the right idea. You just skipped this bullshit and went straight to making your own way and using those looks of yours to get blowjobs in bars."

"That's what you think this is?" Jensen asked. "Skipping the bullshit?"

He didn't mention he was on probation at the time for possession, didn't mention that he was scared to death of paying the price for all the accumulated bullshit that made up his pathetic existence.

Jared shook his head. "I'm just saying I don't know if I'm cut out for medical school."

"You can do whatever you want, Jared." Jensen's voice sounded so sincere to his own ears he would have been embarrassed if he weren't so drunk. "You don't wanna be a loser like me."

Jared stared at him a while before saying, "You're not a loser." It was sweet but he didn't have all the facts. "Whatever's going on, you don't have to answer to anybody, you know? You can do whatever you want."

"Yeah," Jensen scoffed. "Nobody's holding me back but me."

"Don't laugh. It's true."

Jared leaned in close, over the trash of the sidewalk and the gutter under their legs, licked his lips and closed his eyes; it couldn't be more obvious that he was aiming for a kiss.

Jensen jerked back from it with a laugh. Sure, Jared leaning in to kiss him was pretty much everything he'd once hoped for, but Jared's rose-colored glasses were getting in the way of his judgment and Jensen's old need to do what was best for him, despite Jared's own worst instincts, kicked in with brutal force.

"You're drunk," he said.

Jared nodded and bent over to lay his head on his knees. "Yeah, I guess so."

That night, Jensen fell asleep on Chris's couch and thought: Maybe someday. Maybe someday, Jared will come back again, and I'll be ready.

 

  
_~~~_   


 

Austin's a big city with a lot going on but Jared mostly sticks to the neighborhood. There's a rhythm to the place that's all its own and he doesn't feel like he's missing much by staying close to home.

He runs with the dogs in the mornings then showers and leaves for work, he hangs out with Jensen and wonders if it's too much. He talks to Genevieve on the phone at least twice a week. When he tells her about Jensen, she's more understanding than he thought she'd be, just tells him to be careful with his heart, at least until she can manage a trip out to meet the new guy for herself. But that's months away and Jared doesn't know if he can be careful that long. He's already in too deep and maybe that was inevitable.

Danneel challenges him to a game of pool one lazy weekday evening and gives him a pretty brutal ass-kicking. Jared's honest enough to admit she'd have won no matter what, but she has an unfair advantage that she reveals as he breaks.

"You know the first day after you showed up here, I thought this table seemed kind of wobbly," she says, so prim and proper butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. He sort of loses focus after that.

So, yeah. Jensen definitely told her about that first night. Jared decides not to hold it against him. Because Jared's awesome like that. He makes a point of telling Jensen as much when he comes back after the bar closes and pulls him in to kiss him dirty as they slow-dance around the tables.

"I'm supposed to be closing," Jensen protests.

"Mmm. Invite me over."

"You are over."

"No, to your house. I want to see it. You can rub aloe on my back and grill steak and stream a movie."

"You remember that, huh?"

"We have a binding verbal contract, Ackles. And I intend to-" he pulls Jensen in tighter. "Hold you to it."

"Okay, but I have it on good authority that your back is no longer in need of my tender care."

"Oh, you'll rub me down all right."

Jared maybe shouldn't be flirting so hard when he's still unsure about where they stand. There's a conversation hanging in the air, something not being said. Jensen can be cagey and Jared's a master of avoidance. He knows he runs a little hot and cold but he's determined to do better. It becomes truer every time they're together and he sees that look again in Jensen's eyes, something so raw and real Jared can't even begin to define it.

 

Turns out, Jensen knows his way around a grill. Jared pushes the plate away and salutes with his third Heineken. "I'm glad I invited myself over."

"Me, too. This is nice."

Jared looks around the open kitchen again. It's an older bungalow style home, several blocks from where they grew up but close enough that it feels like one of a hundred small houses that surrounded them back then. Jensen remodeled it himself and the care he took shows in the hardwood floors and the granite countertops, the oversized tub in the bathroom, and the simple décor of the two bedrooms. The place is spotless, almost too pristine, but Jared can't blame him for that.

"I'm impressed," he says, not for the first time.

"Thanks." Jensen glances at the back door that opens to the deck and clears his throat. "You know, it's been a while since I took on any big projects but I was thinking of building a fence out back."

It's thrown out too casually and when Jared realizes what Jensen really means, all he can do is try to play it off. "You thinking of getting a dog?"

Jensen meets his gaze and holds it. "No, just in case, you know."

Jared doesn't have much of a poker face. He's sure his rising sense of panic must be evident when Jensen drops his eyes to the table and takes a long draw off his beer, working his jaw as he swallows it down.

"In case what?"

But Jared knows the answer, he just can't believe it. Jensen can't be planning to build a fence under the assumption that Jared's dogs are going to need it, that Jared will move in. They've been doing this – whatever they're doing – for barely a month. It's too soon.

Jensen exhales a low, ragged huff of breath and stands to clear the table.

"So, you were going to tell me about your string of bad boyfriends," he says as he heads toward the sink.

"I was?"

"You said that you'd have to tell me about all your failed relationships someday."

"And that's today?"

"Yep."

So Jared leans back in his chair while he watches Jensen clean up in the kitchen. And he goes into the bad boyfriends spiel because he's not sure what else he can do. The tension between them draws tight but Jensen seems determined not to acknowledge it. Jared's not sure he wants to either.

Fortunately, he can recite the boyfriend chronicles without too much conscious thought. Serious boyfriend number one was Matt. He had dark hair and light eyes, a tight body that wouldn't quit. Jared was neck-deep in prep for the MCAT when they met and his nerves were so shot he couldn't think straight. Matt was a philosophy major who didn't particularly care about the stresses of med school. He wasn't terribly interested in Jared either, as it turned out, not beyond having a go-to guy for a good time in the sack.

But Jared thought he'd found the one. When he wasn't obsessing over medical terms, he was obsessing over Matt. He practically wrote sonnets to the guy's eyes, couldn't tell him enough how amazing he was. In retrospect, Jared thinks maybe he was clinging to someone who seemed easy when the rest of his life was pure anxiety. When Matt answered Jared's "I love you," with "That's sweet," it didn't even hurt his feelings. That probably should have clued him in.

Jared was tenacious. Chad would end that sentence with "a stalker," but Chad's an asshole. Whatever the case, Jared did win Matt over. And they were all right for a while.

One year later, Jared was totally consumed by med school, so consumed that he sort of didn't notice when Matt started seeing other people. Or he didn't want to, so he buried his head in his books only to look up one day to a 'Dear John' letter that hurt more than it should.

Boyfriend number two was less than two months later. Keith was older, a doctor already, and Jared barely had to stalk him at all. But Keith was settled and he wanted Jared to be settled, too. At the end of the day, Jared was young and pre-occupied and not at all ready for that.

Zach was next and as much as Jared hates to admit it, they started up before things with Keith were officially over. Zach was in the same program as Jared, along with Gen and Chad; they all worked the same long hours and shared the same dirty jokes and greasy food.

Looking back on it now, Jared likes to tell the story of him and Zach like it's an episode of _Grey's Anatomy_. When he switched to another hospital to finish out his residency, Zach drifted farther and farther away until he drifted off altogether. Jared's not clear on the details. He hooked up with Tom just weeks after he realized he'd lost Zach for good.

What's important to note, he tells Jensen, is that he got a bad reputation as a serial monogamist and when things ended with Tom, all he was left with was a promise to Genevieve, worn down from too many late night phone calls, that he'd be by himself for a while. He'd agreed happily right before he moved far, far away to start over.

And slept with Jensen not a month later.

"So that's how my willpower works, apparently," he finishes.

Jensen's settled back into the chair across from him. He's been listening the way he always does, like what Jared says matters. "For what it's worth," he says, "I don't think you overdid it in the relationship department."

"I guess I just expected too much," Jared says. "Like I kept pushing for more because I didn't want to be alone."

"Nobody wants to be alone."

"With Tom, I think I just finally felt-" Jared shrugs and looks away; he thinks maybe it's mean to lay this on Jensen even though Jensen's the one asking. Because it's Jensen who wants more now, Jared who's holding back.

"Felt what?"

"Abandoned." He huffs a derisive laugh. "I must sound like a real asshole."

"No." Jensen leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang between splayed legs. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out before."

Jared thinks of telling Jensen that it's okay and he wasn't freaked. But that's an obvious lie. "What about you?" He asks instead. "Any bad boyfriend stories? Long lost loves of your life?"

Jensen's gaze skitters away to some point beyond Jared's shoulder. "Nah. Just guys I had fun with for a while."

"I'm sorry." Jared's not sure why he's apologizing. For being in a bad place maybe, for not understanding what Jensen wants, not really, or for not being able to give it to him. He just knows he hates the bruised look in Jensen's eyes, like there's an old hurt that still colors the surface.

Jensen suddenly stands up and says, "I'll walk you out."

Jared's not sure what's happened, but he goes with Jensen to the door, kisses him on the temple and says, "I'll see you later." That's all he knows to say.

 

"Did you know The Graveyard's up for sale?" Misha asks.

It's Thursday afternoon and Jared's on-call. He's hanging out at Delectus as part of his new and not-so-subtle Jensen-avoidance routine.

"I think Jensen mentioned the owners were considering it." Only in passing though. Jared feels a sudden stab of worry that Jensen might be out of a job, and worse, the place he loves like a second home.

"Don't worry about Jensen, darling." Sebastian leans over the counter that Misha's sitting cross-legged on. "Misha and I are buying it."

"Um, should I ask how you can afford it?" Jared looks around the empty shop and up at Misha.

"No," the two men answer at once.

"Never ask that." Sebastian seems more serious than usual and Jared gulps his agreement.

"Actually, we've asked Jensen if he'd like to come in as a partner," Misha says. "The way he runs that place, you'd think it's already his."

"That's great."

"He hasn't said yes."

"Why not?"

"Lord only knows." Sebastian curls his hand around Misha's ankle and moves his fingers under the cuff of his raggedy jeans. "We're offering him a hell of a deal. He can certainly afford it."

Misha looks at Jared with raised eyebrows, like maybe he's silently imploring him to do something about it. Jared shakes his head. Maybe he would say something but things with Jensen are almost comically uncomfortable now. The few times they've seen each other since that dinner at Jensen's they haven't even managed to meet each other's eyes, much less talk it out.

"I think Jensen's got issues," Misha says. "Childhood trauma or something."

Jared suppresses a surge of protectiveness that Misha's obviously working to provoke. "That's pretty presumptuous," he says mildly.

"All most of us know about anybody's life is what we presume," Misha tells him. "We didn't all know each other back in the day like you two."

"Maybe you should talk to him?" Sebastian says. "Convince him that he's the man and he's got what it takes. He can do it. Rah rah. All that."

"I doubt it would make a difference."

The skeptical look both men throw him over that one would be hard to ignore.

 

Jared does think about it. He wants to know where Jensen's head is with whatever's going on at The Graveyard, though he's scared to broach the more personal issues that have settled in like a stone between them.

He waits until late Saturday afternoon to go to The Graveyard. If he had more guts, he'd call and they'd meet somewhere private, or he'd go at a time that's not so busy. But he's feeling pretty cowardly these days, just wants to bury his head in the sand and forget that he wants Jensen so bad it hurts, forget that Jensen wants that too, but too fast, too much, too soon.

And there's the part of him that still thinks he's reading too much into it. He doesn't have the power to break Jensen's heart, only the bad habit of reading too much into things and reacting in pretty much the worst possible way.

Whatever the truth, he walks up to the bar while Jensen's obviously busy and says, "We need to talk."

Jensen cuts him an impatient glance and serves up a Tequila Sunrise to a tipsy middle-aged woman in a snug red dress. She's laughing too loud at something the man next to her says, trying too hard. And Jared's annoyed but he feels for her, too. Why does trying too hard have to be a bad thing?

"Jensen, come on," he says.

But Jensen's already distracted again, pouring a draft for someone, doing his bartender thing like it's a well-choreographed dance. He looks at Jared and raises his voice. "Now? What about?"

Jared takes a step back, but keeps his hands on the bar. "The guys told me about buying this place."

Jensen serves the beer and leans over to grant Jared his full attention. "You're asking me about that?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Jared shrugs. "It sounds like a good opportunity?"

"Great. I'll take that into consideration."

"Are you mad at me, man?"

"No." Jensen shakes his head, but his voice is laced with low-grade bitterness that's hard to miss. "Why would I be? You're great. I'm great. I haven't decided about the bar yet."

Jared feels suddenly like he's run out of fuel. What the fuck did he expect, anyway? To have a say in Jensen's life?

He says, "Sorry," but Jensen's gone back over to serve some regulars at the other end of the bar. Jared takes the hint and walks away, passing Danneel as he steps outside.

Maybe she tries to say something to him, Jared doesn't know. All he can think is that he doesn't have a right to fuck with Jensen's life, doesn't have a right to assume that he is fucking with his life simply by showing up. He's never felt so uncomfortable around Jensen, not even back when they were young and Jensen stopped wanting to hang with the idiot kid down the street. That at least had made sense.

He's turned the corner to the side street when he hears Jensen call his name.

"I'm sorry," Jensen says as he hustles over to him. "It's not you, okay? It's me. Things are awkward; it's my fault."

"No. I'm bad at this." Jared squeezes his hands into his front pockets, suddenly chilled in the crisp October air. "You probably didn't even mean what I thought-"

"I did," Jensen interrupts. "The fence thing? I did, okay? It was my extremely clever way of broaching the topic of you moving in and it was too soon. I know that."

Jared shakes his head and looks beyond Jensen to the cross-street. People are starting to pour into the neighborhood for their Saturday night out, dinner and drinks, maybe take in a local band.

"It's just too fast for me," he says. "I mean, right now. With my history, I know that sounds like a cop-out."

"No. You don't have to tell me. I know."

"Why?" Jared asks. His voice is so low and unsure he almost can't hear himself. "Why would you even want me to?"

Jensen steps back and looks around. Somebody's laughing in the distance and there's music spilling out of the club next door.

But Jared's not listening; he's looking at Jensen and Jensen's looking anywhere but him. He seems so vulnerable, Jared thinks, in his stained bar shirt, running his hand through already mussed-up hair.

"Because I've always wanted you to…to what? I don't know." Jensen shakes his head and looks at Jared. "Be with me every day. Just be in my life and for it to not to be creepy. Always wanted to be good enough."

"Always?"

"Jared, god." Jensen steps in and surges up to kiss him, but he doesn't give Jared time to kiss back, just plants it there and backs away. "Since you were way too young for me to feel that way," he says.

Jared doesn't have any trouble hearing him but he finds it hard to compute. "What are you saying?"

"Remember the last time we talked?" Jensen asks. "Before you came back, I mean. Outside of Mary's?"

"I was pretty wasted but it'd be hard to forget."

"My life was shit." Jensen crosses his arms over his chest and dips his head to look up at Jared through his lashes. "I was on probation," he says. "I didn't have a job. The only friend I had left was Chris and he was running out of patience."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"You tried to kiss me, remember?"

"Well, yeah." Jared smiles. "I'd just found out the guy I'd been crushing on since I was twelve was into guys."

Jensen's eyes go wide. "Crushing on?"

"Oh, come on. You had to know that."

"I didn't." Jensen reaches back to rub the back of his neck. "But I don't guess it would have changed anything."

"No." Jared feels a bittersweet rush of nostalgia. "I was just a stupid kid. Nothing would have happened."

Jensen takes Jared's hand. "Yeah, that's true. I mean, you were. Just a kid," he says. "But I fell in love with you and-"

"Love?"

"Yes."

"You fell in love with me?"

"Jared, yes." Jensen doesn't sound reluctant anymore; he doesn't hesitate when he says, "It was my eighteenth birthday when I figured it out. You probably don't even remember that night."

"On the roof of the theater?"

Jensen's smile is fond. "Yeah."

"Go on."

"What?"

Jared's going to say, tell me how you knew and when did you realize, and why didn't you do anything or tell me, but it all seems so obvious in a way, and painful, so he skips over it.

"Mary's," he says instead. "Outside of Mary's when I tried to kiss you and you pulled away."

"What about it?"

"That was the last time I talked to you. You were messed up. Then what?"

Jensen nods and pulls Jared with him when he steps back to lean against a wall. "After that, I just decided – this is it. Time to pull myself together." He moves his thumb over the thin skin of Jared's hand, tracing a vein. "I convinced Jim to hire me at the bar and I actually showed up, every day for every shift, and I got my GED, went to business classes at night, started to get my shit together."

Jared smiles his encouragement and steps in closer.

"I made new friends, lived a life. And I did all that for myself," Jensen says. "After a while, I wasn't thinking of you much, but you're the reason I started. Every good thing in my life from the time I met you was because of you one way or the other. Maybe I'm the one who sounds like an obsessive stalker, but it's the truth. I don't regret it."

"Me either, but Jensen." Jared unclasps his hand from Jensen's and steps back. "It's a lot to take in."

"I know." Jensen looks away. "I realize I just blew it, but I wanted you to know. I still feel that way." He stands up from the wall and squares his shoulders. "I love you. I think you're it for me. But whatever happens, just. Thank you for believing in me when nobody else did."

"Listen, it's not, you didn't-"

And even if Jensen didn't pick that moment to turn and walk away, didn't leave him without another word on a narrow side-street with the sun's light fading and the streetlights flickering on around him as strangers called out to each other in the distance, Jared's not sure how he'd finish that sentence. Maybe he'd say: You didn't blow it. I'm not freaked out.

But he is freaked; otherwise, he'd go after Jensen. And he doesn't, he stands right there instead, and wonders where they can possibly go from here.

 

Usually when Jared has an issue, he works it out with friends. Or he calls his brother. He's even been known to go to his parents for advice. Jensen is certainly an issue but each time Jared thinks of sharing what's happened between them with someone else, his gut clenches.

This isn't bragging about sex on a pool table or bitching about your latest break-up with your best friend. It's Jensen's business as much as it's his and Jared wants to protect that. He's not certain, but he thinks Jensen might be embarrassed to have Jared share it. So he doesn't.

He suffers in silence instead, becomes pretty committed to acting stoic for well over a week. Way down deep, it makes Jared feel like the hero of a romance novel, broody in a way that just isn't him. Not that he's ever read anything like that.

When Doctor Gamble tells him he seems a little off, Jared tells her the dogs are keeping him up at night because the cooler weather makes them frisky. Seb and Misha are blatant with their questions, which range from, "Did you talk to Jensen about The Graveyard deal?" To, "Please don't say there's some sort of sexual dysfunction going on; that would be too tragic for words." Jared graces them with his best Mona Lisa smile and says he really can't go into it.

Mostly, Jared doesn’t miss talking to Genevieve, or Chad, or any of his other friends back in Atlanta. He doesn’t feel a burning desire to spill his guts to Sebastian or Misha, or his colleagues at work, or to his family.

Jared misses Jensen. Everyone else takes a back seat. But it wouldn't be fair to seek him out, not when Jensen laid bare so much, not when Jared can't think of what to say to make it better.

At first, he thinks he's upset at Jensen for laying it all out there like that and making Jared responsible for his heart. But it's not long before he starts to think that Jensen maybe did the bravest thing he's ever seen. And he did it for Jared, for the boy he was then and the man he is now. Jared only wishes he knew what to do with it.

And then, one day, he wakes up and he does.

"Holy shit," he says out loud. The dogs yawn and look up at him from their place at the foot of the bed. "Holy shit."

Sadie rolls over and starts her morning stretch. He looks at the clock; it's a half hour before the alarm's due to go off.

"I'm in love with Jensen," he says. Truth be told, that isn't a huge revelation, and the dogs don't take it as such.

"I can do this," Jared tells them. "I can have this."

He'd like to think his sudden revelation is the result of all the soul-searching he's done, his heart and mind working together to finally clue him in that Jensen's the one and it's already too late to back down from that. But it's probably just as rash as every other choice he's made on a whim. None of those other choices brought him back home to Jensen though, so they can all go pound sand as far as Jared's concerned.

 _"Oh for fuck's sake, just do it. You're going to anyway."_

Genevieve's voice is his head is the best thing ever.

Jared swings his feet around and bounces up off the bed so fast, he goes dizzy with it and has to sit back down. The dogs make their way up to him and he pets them without thinking. "Kids, don’t start making plans just yet," he tells him, "but there's a fenced-in back yard in your future."

 

Halloween is The Graveyard's biggest night of the year, busy enough that Jared knows he shouldn't interrupt Jensen's day. The clinic's busy too and he ends up working through lunch anyway. Life would be so much simpler if he could just act on his grand personal revelations the moment he has them.

But Jared's a responsible adult. A responsible adult without a Halloween costume. So he calls up to Delectus as his shift ends and they put him on speaker phone.

"It's a big night, guys."

"The biggest," Misha agrees. "Why?"

"It's Halloween."

"An event so radical it's been on the calendar for hundreds, possibly thousands, of years." Sebastian sounds bored but Jared knows better.

"I don't have a costume."

"And?"

"I need one. Preferably one that shows a lot of skin."

"You going to the big shin-dig at The Graveyard after all?" Misha asks.

"Darling, please don't say shin-dig."

"Yes," Jared tells him. "And I don't want to overstate things, but it's kind of a big deal. Huge."

Misha laughs. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?"

"I was thinking I might oil up and go shirtless."

"Why didn’t you say so?" Misha asks, his voice suddenly sharp and interested. "What do you need?"

 

Four costume changes and nearly a bottle of baby oil later, Jared just can't bring himself to go with the shirtless thing. Maybe he's modest. Or maybe it's because it's cold out, but he makes sure to tell Sebastian and Misha, "As of tonight, this bod is property of Jensen Ackles and nobody else is getting a free show."

"You're just scared the baby oil will congeal on your manly chest hair," Misha says. The man has a point.

But they relent, and Jared ends up in a store-bought Thor costume, the only one they can find to fit him on such short notice. Sebastian manages to rustle it up after only a couple of phone calls and possibly a bribe or "an offer of sexual favors" that Jared doesn't want to think about.

The costume has lots of fabric and unnecessary padding and Jared starts to sweat about two seconds after he squirms into it. The big hammer is a nice accessory, though. He's sure they make quite a splash when they walk into The Graveyard, though the party's in full swing by then and the crush of people makes everything a bit of a blur. But there's no way Misha and Sebastian, resplendent in matching leather French Maid outfits, don't draw attention, especially escorted as they are by one Thor, God of Thunder.

Drinks flow freely in the loud bar, and there's much more of a club atmosphere than usual. Girls in slutty outfits are bobbing for apples in the corner and if he had gone shirtless, Jared wouldn’t be the only one there, of either gender, to do so.

In the midst of the chaos, it takes him a minute to find Jensen, who's walking from the back room to the bar with a case of champagne on his shoulder. He's got on zombie make-up and a bright yellow hazmat suit and Jared laughs at the sight of him.

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Sebastian raises his voice to be heard over the noise. "You are both extremely well-built men in the prime of life and yet you cover yourselves up like Mother Theresa."

"Frankly, it goes against everything Halloween stands for," Misha adds.

But Jared's barely paying attention. It occurs to him as he makes his way to the bar that this might not go well. The crowd's big and loud and it's obviously all Jensen and his staff can do to keep up. That's just too bad. Jensen's work is about to be interrupted and if that pisses him off, he'll have to take it up with Jared. Because Jared's ready, completely and irrevocably, to take it up with him.

By the time he reaches the bar and catches Jensen's eye, it's too late for anything else. The sight of Jared with his naughty French maids in tow surprises a laugh out of Jensen before his expression shifts to something more wary.

Jared leans over the bar and says the first thing that comes to mind. Maybe he should have planned this better, but he doesn't expect the blank reaction he gets in return. Then Jensen cups his hand to his ear and makes a stirring motion with his finger before reaching over to set out three draft beers for waiting customers.

So Jared yells this time, gets some lung power behind it. "Did I ever tell you I used to think you made me gay?"

Things go quiet and still around him for a moment and he's about to be pretty impressed he's managed to shut up the whole bar, but it's only the immediate vicinity and even there, things return to the previous insane noise level after barely a beat.

He has Jensen's attention though, and that's all that matters. Misha and Sebastian quickly take two bar seats that are freed up and Danneel stops to lean over the bar, laser-focused on Jared like she's ready to beat him to a pulp if need be.

Jensen stares at him for a second and shakes his head. So no, then. He hadn't realized Jared used to credit Jensen with his burgeoning homosexuality.

"You were so beautiful," Jared screams. "I mean, not girly. I know you hated it when people said you were pretty or whatever."

Jensen shakes his head and steps in closer, leaning over the bar to hear better. Close up, the zombie make up looks kind of caked on. Jared shakes off the stray observation.

"I don't think I was in love with you back then." Jared's still yelling to be heard, but not quite as loud. "I’m sorry."

"Don't be." Jensen raises his voice to match Jared's. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"It's okay, though." Jared lets the rubber hammer slide out of his hands and grimaces when it bounces off his foot. "Because I'm in love with you now and that's not going away. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let some stupid shit like timing get in the way of the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"What?" But Jensen's eyes are dancing and Jared knows he heard. He just wants to hear it again. Which is fine because Jared wants to say it. Over and over.

"I have to warn you," Jared says, "I've heard relationships based on intense experiences never work."

"What?" Jensen narrows his eyes and waves off a customer calling for a tequila shot. "Dude, that doesn't make any sense."

"Just shut up and say your line," Jared tells him.

He sees the moment it clicks and grins when Jensen rolls his eyes. "Why are you dressed like Thor if you're just going to come in here and quote _Speed_ at me? It doesn't even apply."

" _Speed_?" Danneel says. "What the fuck?"

Misha shudders. "Let's just hope we don't have to suffer through the sequel."

Jared ignores them. "I'll dress up in a tight white t-shirt and a flak jacket for you some other time," he promises. "Just say your line."

Jensen laughs and pushes himself up to lean over the bar. "Okay," he quotes. "We'll have to base it on sex then."

"Whatever you say, ma'am."

"Man."

"Huh?"

"You should change it to 'whatever you say, man' or this memory is going to be weird."

"Fine," Jared says. "Bossy."

He leans in for a kiss, nothing over the top – they are in public after all, and the costume makeup doesn't taste great. But it's good enough despite all that, he barely notices the catcalls that erupt all around them. "Whatever you say, man."

 

~the end~

**Author's Note:**

> Many eternal thanks for another wonderful and quick beta, greybhan311, also known as she who puts up with many misplaced hyphens. I've reduced the age difference between Jared and Jensen by one year for the story.
> 
> Written for the spn_meanttobe challenge, based on the prompt **Ramona and the Renegade** : _Deputy Joe Lone Wolf never would've guessed that helping someone at the side of the road in a thunderstorm would throw his carefully controlled world into a tailspin. But that's exactly what happens when he realizes the sexy "stranger" is his childhood best friend, Ramona. He's spent years convincing himself that she deserves more than a former rebel with a scarred past. But all it takes is one stormy night in a deserted cabin with Ramona to make the fierce lawman change his mind._
> 
>  _Falling for Joe is a risk veterinarian Ramona Santiago knows she shouldn't take. Everyone she's trusted has let her down and left her alone…except him. Can she possibly hope that she and Joe were always meant to be more than friends?_


End file.
